


Control

by ambut



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Power Exchange, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambut/pseuds/ambut
Summary: Set around the beginning of season 7, Willow returns to Sunnydale after spending two months in England (following the Dark Willow events at the end of season 6). Giles returns with her, hoping to help Willow settle back in and continue her rehabilitation. It soon becomes clear that Giles' interest in Willow is more than strictly platonic. As Willow struggles to control her magic and the guilt that threatens to consume her, she must also come to terms with her own attraction to Buffy's Watcher. [Minor continuity changes for convenience]





	1. Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by Giles' question to Willow, "Do you want to be punished?" (season 7 episode 1), I eventually decided to turn this smut into a full novel for NaNoWriMo 2016. It's my first major fiction piece, my first piece of fanfiction, and my first novel-length work. I hope you enjoy!

Willow bounced her left leg nervously as she stared out the window waiting for the plane to take off. It had been so long since she had last been in America, had last seen her friends – or, at least, those who had been her friends before. She wasn’t too sure if they would still use that term. Only a few months before, she had nearly brought about, well, the end of the world. In her grief and rage, she had almost killed everyone, and that included her best friends. Would Buffy and Xander and everyone still want to be around her? Would they even talk to her?

She glanced over at Giles, who was busy cleaning his glasses and trying to pretend that Willow’s fidgeting wasn’t bothering him. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him, in grubby jeans and a well-worn pullover sweatshirt with the name of a London pub on it. Although she knew his luggage was full of the familiar three-piece suits and classy sweaters he normally donned, Willow was still thrown for a loop every time she looked over at him in his informal attire.

As she studied at him now, she thought about how he had stuck by her, patiently and calmly supporting her through everything. She had basically gone to magic rehab featuring a whole heap of therapy, and the process had not been an easy one. Her experiences over the last year had made it clear that going “cold turkey” with magic wasn’t going to work, but if she let the forces take over, she could be incredibly dangerous. Perhaps more dangerous than any demon or beastie that Buffy and the gang had ever faced before. Willow had become the villain. She lost control of everything, and that was what she went to England to regain: control.

Giles reached over a hand and gently placed it on Willow’s knee to still her. He took a series of loud, slow breaths, inhaling over five seconds and exhaling at the same pace. Willow shook herself out of her reverie and snapped back to the here and now. This was one strategy she had learned in Bath, one that she and Giles had practiced many times. Just breathe and be present. Willow matched Giles’ breathing and his face relaxed into just a hint of a smile. After another few breaths, he put his hand back in his lap. 

Willow turned her face toward the window as she broke into a toothy grin; not only had Giles let her take the window on this extremely long flight, relegating himself to the dreaded middle seat, but he had also allowed her full use of the armrest between them. _Giles is totally adorable_ , she thought. _This is why you have to love him_. Although he had been firm more often than not while Willow worked through her recovery, at his core he was incredibly gentle and nurturing. He and Willow had worked very closely for months, and they had become totally attuned to each other’s moods and habits. For instance, Willow knew that Giles was displeased in his very British way because the passenger to his left was allowing the strap of her bag to rest on Giles’ leg, but Willow also knew that Giles would never in a million years say something to this woman. Likewise, Giles knew that Willow’s anxiety about returning home was only temporarily eased, and he would have to keep an eye on her throughout the flight. She was prone to agitating herself and working herself up, even over small things. And going home was no small thing.

Willow’s guilt over what had happened months before had nearly consumed her. Her very public destruct-o-thon was common knowledge in Sunnydale, but the private nightmare that followed was known only to a select few. Giles was one of them. He had watched as Willow cried herself into a fitful sleep every night for her entire first week in recovery. After she had “detoxed” a little from the magic overload, Giles saw the anger creep back into her face – not directed at Warren or the world, but pointed inward at herself. For a while, Willow didn’t want anyone’s help because she didn’t believe she was worthy of that help. Although Giles had never spoken a word of this to anyone, especially Willow, he had secretly suspected that one day he’d go to her room and find her dead.

Thankfully, that never happened. The superlative care of the witches and therapists in England slowly brought Willow to a place where she was able to work through her grief at losing Tara, her anger at everyone involved, and her guilt over what she had done. The process was far from over, but Willow had reached a point where she was ready to leave the security of the center and return to her life. _Or what’s left of her life_ , Giles thought.

Immediately irritated that he had allowed himself to think it, Giles chided himself. _She doesn’t need you feeling the same doubts and fears that she’s already dealing with_. Giles took off his glasses again and cleaned them vigorously.

Willow noted Giles’ movements, knowing that wiping his glasses usually indicated something bad – he was angry, he was frustrated, he was annoyed, he was bored. Willow looked down and saw that the strap of that lady’s bag wasn’t touching Giles anymore. _So what is it, then?_ she wondered. _What’s up with Giles?_

When Giles had finished cleaning his lenses and replaced the spectacles on his face, Willow took his warm hand in hers, positioning both their arms on the armrest. Giles glanced over at the young witch, his smile only the slightest bit strained. _Does she know what I’m thinking?_ he worried. _No, not if she’s still calm. Okay._

After what seemed like forever, the plane accelerated down the runway and lifted into the air, taking to the sky as easily as a falcon. Willow was always a tiny bit nervous on planes, but also secretly liked this part. Being pressed into the seat and feeling her stomach bottom out always reminded her a little bit of a rollercoaster, and it was fun sometimes for your tummy to go all wobbly. She made a mental note that she should go on rollercoasters more often, even if they scared her as much as they excited her.

As the plane leveled off and began the long trip back to the States, Giles looked down as his fingers intertwined with Willow’s. Normally at this point in the flight, he’d like nothing more than to block out the world and settle into one of his books. But that would mean letting go of Willow’s hand. A nagging feeling made him reluctant to do that. _If you don’t let go soon, Rupert_ , he told himself, _it’s going to look like you’re dating this girl, and you are on this plane with all these people for far too long to let them get that impression. Besides, you don’t want her to get too attached just as you’re heading back to help her rejoin her life. The training wheels are supposed to be coming off, not getting tightened._ He tried to talk himself out of holding hands with the witch, but the truth was that he simply liked holding Willow’s hand. It was soft and small and she would sometimes absent-mindedly rub his knuckle with the tip of her thumb. It was comfortable.

\---------------

Willow was too lost in her own thoughts to be even realize that she was still holding hands with Giles. She was replaying her most recent talk with her counselor.

“Willow,” Doctor Lane had said to her several days earlier, “you seem agitated today. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Willow uttered as she slowly paced the length of the small but comfortable room. The make-shift counseling room was actually Giles’ study on his estate in Bath. Giles generously offered to share his home with Willow and the team responsible for helping her recover. Surrounded by Giles’ books and papers, Willow worked with Doctor Lane three days a week. This was her final appointment before her flight back to the States, and she was anxious about leaving the relative safety of the estate. Her left arm was wrapped in front of her stomach, propping up her right elbow so she could chew on her thumbnail. “Something Giles said is really bothering me.”

“What did he say?” asked Doctor Lane.

“We were talking about my experience here, and I was saying how I was surprised at how nice everyone was. I thought I was going to get, I don’t know, thrown in witch jail or tortured or something, but everybody’s just teaching me stuff and being really good to me.”

Doctor Lane nodded to show he was following.

“Well, after I said all that, Giles said, ‘Do you want to be punished?’ and I was like, ‘No’ but now I don’t even know. What if I should be punished? What if that’s what I deserve? What if that’s the only thing that’s going to make everything right?” Willow’s pacing grew more frantic with each question. She had chewed her thumbnail down to the quick and she could taste a hint of blood, but she didn’t care. Her thumb was bleeding but other people were dead. She killed Warren. She killed that scumbag Rack. And she almost killed Xander and Buffy and Dawn and Anya and Giles. Giles had gotten really, really hurt. He could have been dead. So, yeah, she definitely felt she deserved some punishment.

Doctor Lane was familiar with this line of reasoning. Willow was already dealing with the trauma of seeing Tara killed right in front of her, which would have been enough to make anyone lose their footing. But on top of that, Willow had taken the life of Tara’s killer, hurt dozens of people in the pursuit of his accomplices, including those she cared very deeply about, and then had nearly summoned a force that would have destroyed the entire world. It’s not every day that you realize you were almost the greatest mass murderer in history, so it was natural that Willow would be wracked with guilt. But Doctor Lane was determined to help Willow process these feelings so she could get through them. “How should you be punished?” he asked her. “What should we do? Lock you up? Hurt you? Kill you? Would taking your life make everything feel right again?”

Willow flailed her arms in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know, maybe! Don’t I deserve to die for what I did? For what I tried to do?” Her voice cracked as she felt her emotions burn hotter and hotter. “If I had gone to jail instead of being taken here, I don’t think it would take long for a jury to convict me and sentence me to death, no matter what the circumstances were. Losing Tara didn’t give me the right to do what I did. I took two lives. I almost took a lot more. That is never, ever going to be okay. I am never going to be okay.” The last few words left Willow as a sob, and she collapsed onto the couch with her face in her hands. It had been weeks since she had broken down like this, but now the tears came in earnest, her chest heaving with the sobs. Her red hair fell in front of her face like a curtain, its gentle swaying belying the agony in Willow’s heart.

Doctor Lane moved over and sat next to Willow. She had been trying so hard to assert that she was “past this” and was feeling stronger, but Doctor Lane knew better. Although Willow had made incredible strides in both her therapy and her magical studies, he knew the road to recovery was never a straight line. Willow was bound to have moments like these as she continued to heal, and he was glad to help her through one before she went back home. He waited a few moments for the worst to pass. As Willow drew a few shaky breaths, he passed her a tissue, something he had done a hundred times before. Willow actually managed a sardonic laugh. “I bet you’re pretty sick of giving me tissues, huh Doctor Lane?”

“Not yet,” he smiled. “Besides, our tissue budget is a bit bloated at the moment. We could use some help going through the surplus.”

Willow managed a weak smile at that, although her face was still obscured by one hand and her bone-straight hair. Steeling herself after the moment of levity, she cleared her throat and sat up a little. Her shaking hand reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Seriously, though. I wonder if it even makes sense for me to go home. Or to keep getting out of bed. I’ve done unspeakable things. I don’t know if I still have a place in this world. On the other hand, if I do, I don’t even know if I want to be a part of a world that accepts someone like me in it.” She paused, shaking her head as if that would clear some things up. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that I’m making any sense.”

Doctor Lane turned a bit to face her. “Of course you’re making sense. You’re horrified at what you’ve done, and as far as you’re concerned, you’re basically evil. So part of you expects everyone you love to reject you, and you’re scared to death of that happening. But if they don’t reject you, you don’t want to be around them, because what would it say about them if they let you back in after everything?”

Willow nodded, fresh tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She hazarded a glance into Doctor Lane’s face and saw that he looked at her with warmth and understanding, just the way Giles did. That small bit of comfort gave her strength.

“Willow,” Doctor Lane continued, “I’m not in charge of doling out moral judgments. I’m not a god or The Powers That Be or even a pretty powerful witch like you. I’m just a psychologist. Okay, yes, Oxford-trained and well-practiced and a pretty snappy dresser, but just a psychologist. I don’t know if you deserve to die. I don’t know if you deserve to be abandoned. I don’t know if you deserve to be punished.” He took Willow’s hand in both of his and made sure she was looking at him as he spoke. “What I do know is that you being tortured or killed won’t change anything that has already happened. Tara’s death, Warren’s death, the pain your friends endured – all of those will still be there, no matter what. Your death wouldn’t solve anything. It would only hurt your friends more.”

Willow, who had been reluctantly nodding along with Doctor Lane until that last sentence, let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. Somehow I doubt they’d be too broken up over me getting what I deserve. When I was fighting Buffy and Giles, I could feel from them what a relief it would be if I were dead. They’d be safe and I wouldn’t be able to hurt them anymore.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s probably true.” Willow’s thin eyebrows twitched upward in surprise as Doctor Lane agreed with her, but she didn’t interrupt. “I wasn’t there,” Doctor Lane conceded, “but I can imagine that they actually were trying to kill you at one point, because you were trying to kill them. But you know as well as I do that the situation has drastically changed. Do you still want to kill Buffy?”

“No, of course not,” Willow spat out, annoyed at the doctor’s ploy.

“Do you want to kill Giles?”

“No!” Willow surprised herself with the amount of shock and fear in her voice. She couldn’t imagine hurting Giles again. The very thought stung her deeply.

“Do you think Giles wants you dead?”

“No, he doesn’t, and he has been very clear on that many times.” Willow’s tone betrayed her irritation, a sing-song quality making her sound like a child being forced to give an apology. “He says he would never want to hurt me in a thousand centuries.”

“Do you believe him?”

Willow sat stock still for a moment. She had felt a sneaking doubt on that very question for several weeks, but she took a moment and examined it with great care. She recalled when Giles had looked into her tear-streaked face, lifting her chin with his hooked forefinger. He told her that the possibility of having to kill Willow to stop her had torn him apart inside. He said that he would have gladly given his life if it meant that things would go back to how they were before Tara was killed. Facing her in the magic shop, he said, had been the most terrifying moment of his life, not because he feared for his life, but because he thought he might have to take Willow’s. He still had nightmares about it, he said.

Willow had looked into Giles’ eyes, really looked, and she saw the pain he felt. She knew he was being truthful. She blinked and met Doctor Lane’s eyes again. “Yes, I believe him.”

“Do you think it’s possible, maybe even likely, that Buffy and the others will feel exactly like Giles feels?”

Willow’s insides squirmed. Admitting that her friends might welcome her back felt unsafe. It felt uncomfortable. It felt dangerously like hope.


	2. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow arrives home and must discover whether the friends she had before she left are still her friends now.

A few days after her final conversation with Doctor Lane, Willow found herself on a plane next to Giles, anxiously waiting to see if she indeed still had any friends.

“Giles,” she said as she turned to face him. Giles, who had been lost in his own tangle of thoughts, jumped a little at the sudden exclamation.

“Oh, Giles! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you go all ‘eek!’ on me.” Willow felt a pang of regret for startling Giles, given all that she had already done to him. Her heart softened a little, however, when Giles chuckled at his own silliness and covered their still-clasped hands with his free palm.

“Willow, no matter. What is it?”

“Well, I was just thinking,” Willow began, her nervous energy bubbling up like carbonation. “The last time you were on a plane to Sunnydale, you had been imbued with the power of the whole coven in Westbury. You knew I was dangerous and you were coming to stop me. I mean, you thought you might have to kill me. This must be a way better flight, huh?”

Giles’ expression darkened with anguish for a split second before it turned to stone. After a moment, he looked down at his knees and said quietly, “Yes, this is rather different.”

The chill in his voice made Willow feel like her heart had stopped beating. She quickly cast her eyes down, feeling ashamed. Ashamed that she had made Giles feel so awful, ashamed that she had broached this subject in public, ashamed that she had brought it up so flippantly, ashamed for everything. She could feel her devastating guilt writhing around underneath all of her other feelings, coloring every interaction, every thought. Doctor Lane had reminded her that she would still be prone to sudden shifts in temperament for weeks or months, but mood swings like this still caught her off guard. Her eyes glossed over with the tears that had been threatening to form all day. _You will not cry on this airplane. You will not cry on this airplane. You will not cry on this airplane._ She kept repeating it to herself like a mantra, but she could feel that she was on the edge.

Willow felt her arm moving. Dazed, she looked over and saw that Giles was lifting their arms up so he could move the armrest up and out of the way. She had a momentary flickering of loss as Giles let go of the hand he had been holding all this while, but then she realized that Giles was pulling her over to him in a warm embrace. He tucked Willow into the crook of his arm and put his hand on her shoulder. Willow wholeheartedly welcomed the gesture and rested her head on Giles’ chest and shoulder.

_Please don’t cry now_ , Giles silently willed.

_Please don’t cry now_ , Willow urged herself.

To their mutual relief, Willow took a few ragged breaths before settling into Giles’ arms. In a few moments, she was asleep.

With his left hand, Giles gingerly reached above them and clicked off their seats’ lights. The Friday morning red-eye was the best (and cheapest) flight available, and although he suspected that he himself would never get a wink of sleep on the flight, he hoped that Willow would take the opportunity to get some rest before what would undoubtedly be a stressful return home.

He looked down at the slumbering witch and felt a familiar warmth radiate out all the way to his fingers and toes. He had been feeling more and more protective of Willow over the last few months. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had nearly been forced to kill her (and maybe would have, if she hadn’t been so much stronger than him) and was trying to repent for that most egregious sin. Maybe it was the natural outgrowth of his long-standing avuncular affection, first nurtured in the Sunnydale High School library where they had spent countless hours poring over ancient texts.

A part of him worried that there was something else behind the chaste affection, something not so innocent. For all the years he had been Buffy’s Watcher, he had detachedly acknowledged that Willow was a clever, stubborn, beautiful girl. Whether the staff care to admit it or not, all teachers could objectively report which students were attractive and which were not, which were pleasant to be around and which were not, and so on. He did not feel strange, then, noting that Willow was rather pretty.

But something was different and it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore it. It’s one thing to note a person’s attractiveness; it’s entirely another to be attracted. He would, of course, never do anything to risk his friendship with Willow. Or with Buffy, for that matter. He valued them as friends and allies too much to ever do anything to jeopardize that. Even so, as Willow slumbered in his arms, Giles wondered if he needed to worry about where his own feelings were heading.

Just then, the flight attendant approached and asked if Giles wanted anything to drink. Although he desperately craved a stiff drink to help him purge these thoughts from his mind, he opted for water instead, thanking the flight attendant as she passed him the cup. _You have to watch over her_ , he thought to himself, _and you can’t very well do that if you’re tipsy_. He sipped his water as if that settled the matter.

\-------------------------

It was over an hour into the flight and Giles was bored. Willow was thoroughly passed out, nestled firmly into Giles’ side, and Giles didn’t want to wake her just so he could retrieve his book from his luggage. It was just tucked under the seat in front of him. He might just be able to get it. He hooked his foot under the bag’s strap and started to maneuver it towards him. _Gently, old boy,_ he cajoled himself. _You have many more hours to get through. No need to rush._ As he pulled his foot up to angle the bag, the strap slipped and the bag landed with a sonorous THUD on the floor. Giles glanced at Willow and instinctively held his breath, hoping he hadn’t woken her. Thankfully, she didn’t even stir.

Giles couldn’t help but smile. _That’s my girl._ Again, even more slowly this time, Giles tucked his foot under his bag’s strap and guided the bag towards him. He gently shifted forward, leading with his free left arm, and successfully snatched the loop of the bag in his fingers. He gracefully placed his foot back on the floor, and slid the bag up and over onto his lap. Just as he began to work the zipper open, Willow shifted, a yawn escaping her mouth as a stretch passed through her as it would a cat. Giles froze and gripped his bag, hoping that Willow would settle back into a deep, dreamless sleep. Willow tucked her feet underneath her legs, pushing her torso more firmly into Giles’ side, her face now buried in his neck.

Giles’ eyes involuntarily widened as he felt the sensation of Willow’s breath warming his skin. His back straightened and he stared straight ahead for several seconds, trying to gather his thoughts. Willow being jammed into his armpit had felt affectionate but fatherly. Willow’s face – Willow’s lips – being pressed into the bare skin of his neck felt like something else entirely. A different sensation, one he did not want to feel for Willow, threatened to grow. He was very glad to have his bag in this lap. He pressed his eyes shut, his face blushing to a deep crimson. God, what he would give to be able to clean his glasses right now.

_You’re just a man,_ he tried to tell himself. _She’s beautiful and she’s very close and it’s only natural that you would…react._ That line of reasoning didn’t feel very convincing. If it were any other woman, sure, it wouldn’t be that odd to feel some attraction to her. But this was Willow. He had known her since she was barely sixteen. Their relationship was more like father and daughter – well, maybe not quite. Like mentor and student, then. Yes. _She’s not your student. And she’s not a child. There is nothing illegal about finding her attractive._ He still wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing himself. Just because it was legal didn’t mean it was ethical. It’s just not proper.

With that, he was able to tamp down the remaining stirrings, exhaling with a sense of finality that he wasn’t sure he really felt. After a moment, he resumed his delicate manipulation of the zipper on his bag, finally extricating the long-coveted book and radiating thankfulness for the ready distraction in his hands. He slid the bag back to the floor and placed the book in his lap. With one last indulgent moment in which he did his best to memorize what it felt like to have Willow’s mouth on his skin, he opened the book to page one and, resolved, set himself to reading.

\-----------------------

The jostling of the plane as it touched down on the tarmac finally awoke Willow from her coma-like nap. Unbelievably, she had slept all the way to New York, where she and Giles were due to catch a connecting flight to Sunnydale. As her consciousness slowly roused itself, Willow realized that her face was firmly buried in Giles’ neck, an awfully intimate sleeping position. She pulled away with a twinge of panic, her cheeks turning the slightest bit red as she tried to straighten herself out. Giles, tickled by her alarm but ever the gentleman, fussed with his carry-on and made no indication that anything unusual had occurred.

Relieved at Giles’ non-reaction, Willow began to gather her few personal items and smoothed out her hair, which had gone a bit wonky as she slept. After a few minutes, the passengers began to de-board and Willow and Giles headed out to customs, and then the terminal. They still had a little over an hour until their connecting flight boarded, but a trip to a full-size bathroom and a warm breakfast would be heaven. As Willow slipped into the ladies’ room, she noted a serious kink in her neck, and thought, _well, that’s something we’re not going to talk about_. After making use of the facilities and washing her hands, Willow took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. _Willow, this is not high school anymore. We are well past the time when it’s appropriate to have a crush on the librarian. He has been warm and kind and wonderful, and you have already betrayed his trust enough. The last thing you need to do is go all doe-eyed at him and make things weird. You still have another six-hour flight to go. Don’t make it weird._

Fortunately for Willow, Giles was so involved with his bacon and egg sandwich that he wouldn’t have noticed an awkward conversation if it had slapped him in the face. As Willow joined Giles at the least sticky table by the breakfast kiosk, Giles slid her a paper bag with her own sandwich, as well as a tea with her preferred milk and sugar ratio. Willow graciously accepted, and soon became just as wrapped up in the glory of breakfast as Giles was. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, chewing and sipping, relieved at being off the plane but bracing themselves for yet another long flight.

Giles ran his fingers through his already-mussed brown hair. He checked his watch and looked at Willow. “The flight to Sunnydale boards in about 45 minutes. Once we’re done here, we should go check out the gate and stake out some seats.”

Willow began to agree, but then remembered, “Hey, if we don’t move around enough on long flights, we could get pulmonary embolisms and die.”

Giles stopped chewing. With a mouthful of egg sandwich, he questioned, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Willow continued, painfully earnest in her concern. “You get these clots in your legs from not moving around, and then the clots go to your lungs and you die.”

“I don’t feel dead,” Giles said, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Well no, see, that’s the thing, you don’t know that you’re getting them. I mean, hopefully we’re okay for now, but since we’re getting back on a plane, we should really try to move around before we go sit again.”

“Willow, I’m rather quite enjoying my breakfast. Do we need calisthenics at 4am in JFK?”

“Yup. Besides, with the time difference, your body has no idea what time it is.”

Giles sighed, shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, and mumbled, “Okay.”

Willow grinned at her victory and disposed of her sandwich in much the same way. “Alright,” she said through a mouthful of food, “let’s see how much walking we can get in before they call our flight.”

 -----------------------------

Nearly nine hours later, a bleary-eyed Rupert Giles walked into his long-abandoned home in Sunnydale and just about passed out. Although he had managed to catch a nap on the second leg of their flight, he felt absolutely knackered. He dropped his bags just inside the door, shuffled up to his bed, and let himself fall onto it face-first. He was asleep in seconds.

Across town, Willow stood outside Buffy’s house, facing the front door with her eyes closed. _No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. If they’re angry at you, that’s okay. If they’re scared of you, that’s okay. If they tell you to go away, which they might, that’s okay. You and Giles talked about this. You can’t control this part, so you just have to let it happen_.

As Willow reached her hand forward to ring the doorbell, Dawn flung the door open and screamed “Willow!” The young girl, who seemed to have grown six inches since Willow had left, threw her arms around the witch and squeezed. Willow tried to call out Dawn’s name with matching excitement, but the word got caught in her throat and she began to cry. “Willow, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” Dawn’s naked concern only made Willow cry harder. Dawn still loved her. Dawn wasn’t afraid of her or angry with her. What had she done to deserve such kindness and love?

Dawn, getting no answers from Willow but sensing that there was no real trouble, simply held onto Willow and let her cry. After a minute, Willow straightened up and wiped the tears off, trying to affect a business-like air. Dawn, whose own face had been moistened in the interval, did the same, and helped Willow bring her bags in the house.

True to form, Dawn began chattering away about all that had been going on in Willow’s absence. Sweeping her long brown hair behind her shoulders, Dawn spared no detail in her updates. Xander had been putting even more hours at the construction site and the building downtown was almost done. The new high school was finished and Dawn had started her freshman year. Spike had left town for a while but now he was back, though he was acting pretty weird. He was staying at Xander’s for now. Anya was putting in some work at the Magic Box but mostly she was avoiding everyone. Buffy was still making with the slay-age, but she was working this fast food gig on the side to try to keep the angry bill collectors from calling the house. She brought home too much greasy food and she smelled like old burgers all the time, but at least the lights were still on.

“How’s Giles?” Dawn asked, as if that were the punctuation on her one long sentence.

“He’s good,” Willow said, although she wondered if that was really true. Come to think of it, she had been so wrapped up in her own feelings and her own recovery that she hadn’t really spent a lot of time thinking about how Giles was doing. He had been there for her, but she hadn’t been there for him. _God, how selfish. You’re like a child. When was the last time you really asked Giles about how he was doing or what he was going through?_

Dawn interrupted Willow’s self-loathing festival to make Willow eat a late lunch. All they had was leftover Doublemeat Palace junk, but Willow was more than happy to placate Dawn and eat a whole plateful.

\------------------

Giles awoke from his nap just as the sun was setting. _This jetlag is going to be hell_ , he thought as he rubbed his face with both hands. He yawned and stretched and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the dust of exhaustion. Having fallen asleep in his travel outfit, he decided that a shower and a fresh set of clothes would make him feel much better. He took off his sweater and automatically did the thing common to all bachelors, smelling the balled up fabric to determine if it needed washing. Immediately, the scent of Willow Rosenberg flooded his nostrils and made him stop mid-stride. He held the sweater up to his nose again, more purposefully this time, breathing deeply. His shoulders drooped. _Oh, no_ , he thought with dismay. _Rupert, you idiot. You’ve got feelings for the girl. What are you going to do?_


	3. French Fries and Minimum Wage Labor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been well-received by Buffy and Dawn, Willow retreats to bed. Giles comes over, reuniting with Buffy and settling in at Willow's side to be there while she sleeps. The morning, however, takes a bit of a turn.

Willow stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes fixed on the top step. She had been standing there for ten minutes, maybe more, it was impossible to tell. Her bedroom and all her things were upstairs. She had been back for hours now. The sun was going down. She was exhausted. She would have to go to bed eventually.

But she couldn’t go in there. She just couldn’t. The last time she had been in there, she had been covered in Tara’s blood. That was where it all started. She couldn’t go in there.

As Willow started to turn away from the stairs, the door behind her opened. Buffy walked in, wafting in the scent of french fries and minimum wage labor, and met Willow’s eyes. Buffy hesitated for a split second, then dropped her purse on the floor and enveloped her best friend in an enormous hug.

“Wil. God, I’m so glad you’re back. You are back, right? You’re not, like, psycho witch killer lady again, right?” Buffy released her friend from the hug and held her by the shoulders, appraising Willow

Willow gave her familiar crooked smirk and held out her arms as if to present herself. “Nope, just me, regular ol’ Willow. Well, ‘cept I have been going to a bunch of therapy and I’ve been learning about how to control magics and stuff. But, I’m not, like, dangerous anymore, or anything. At least, that’s the idea.”

“Oh, good!” Buffy exclaimed. “Oh, well, I mean, it’s good that you’re not dangerous. I don’t mean ‘good’ like, ‘oh it’s good that you got a bunch of therapy because you sure needed it’ or anything like that,” Buffy stammered, hating herself more with each word that fell out of her mouth.

Willow couldn’t help but smile at Buffy’s awkwardness. _If this is the worst of it_ , Willow thought, _then this really is going to be okay_. “Don’t worry about it, Buffy,” Willow told her friend. “I did need a bunch of therapy. And I’m still going to go see someone now that I’m back in Sunnydale. I don’t want to risk having anything bad happen because I wasn’t being careful or vigilant.”

“I know you don’t,” said Buffy, grabbing Willow’s hand and squeezing reassuringly. Buffy led her friend over to the couch. “Thank god you’re here. I don’t know if I could have stood it another day. Xander keeps trying to talk me about awls. Maybe if he talks carpentry at you for a couple of days, I can recapture my sanity.”

“Well, _awl_ see what I can do,” Willow said, nudging and winking at Buffy to emphasize the dreadfulness of the pun.

Buffy groaned. “Never mind, Wil, go back to England.”

“Too late,” Willow asserted with a shrug of her shoulders. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Somehow I’ll deal,” Buffy sighed as she stretched out on the couch and rested her head in Willow’s lap. Willow was touched by the ease with which Buffy slid back into their routines. There was something so vulnerable about the Slayer lying on the couch. Willow began stroking Buffy’s golden hair, something she hadn’t done for ages. Willow asked Buffy about her day at work, and Buffy regaled her with tales of Doublemeat being Double Sweet for nearly a half hour. By the end of the run-down, Willow was yawning so openly that even Buffy, half asleep after Willow’s head-patting, noted how tired the witch must be feeling.

“Have you slept since your flight?” Buffy asked.

“Nope,” Willow said, reluctant to explain why she hadn’t gone to bed. “I guess I should head upstairs soon.”

Buffy sat up. “Willow,” she began, “I hope you’re not mad, but we moved your stuff.”

Willow felt a bubble of panic rise in her throat. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, you were gone for so long and after what happened with…with…well, after what happened in your room, we weren’t sure you would want to go in there anyway.”

“Mhmm.” Willow pressed her lips together to try to keep her emotions even.

“So, we put my stuff in your old room, and we moved your stuff into my room. We packed all of Tara’s stuff and put it in the basement. It’s all safe, I swear, we just didn’t know if you’d want to see it right away. I know when Mom died, I kept finding stuff of hers and breaking down all over again. Dawn and I didn’t want you to go through that.”

Tears fell freely down Willow’s face. Not only had Buffy and Dawn allowed Willow back into their house, but they had spent hours cleaning and moving furniture just to make her feel more welcome and safe. It was the kindest thing they had ever done for her. She tried to express her gratitude but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Buffy held Willow to her. Buffy knew very well that if Willow’s dark side ever appeared again, they could all be killed. But right now, that didn’t matter. Willow was her best friend, and she needed Buffy. Nothing could stop Buffy from being there for her.

When the tears began to slow, Willow disengaged from the hug and said good night to Buffy, heading up the stairs with much less trepidation. She walked straight to Buffy’s room, now her room, and opened the door to find all her things set up just as she would have liked. She took just a moment to admire the care with which the room was composed, and then dropped into bed. She could have sworn she heard the doorbell ring, but in a moment, she was fast asleep.

\-----------------------

“Giles!” Buffy exclaimed, trying to keep her volume down, having just sent Willow off to bed. The Slayer had intended to be stoic and professional upon seeing her Watcher again, but the sight of Giles in her doorway made her forget all of that. She leapt towards him and squeezed him as if he’d been gone for ten years. Giles, caught off-guard at Buffy’s openness and warmth, laughed a little, then returned Buffy’s hug in kind.

Buffy pulled back just a tad and looked up. “What’d ya bring me?” she prodded eagerly.

Giles put down a paper shopping bag and rifled through it for a moment before retrieving a small box wrapped in brown paper and string. With a formal air, he presented the box to Buffy, who hadn’t truly expected to be presented with a gift.

“Oh, Giles, I was just kidding. Did you really get me something?” Buffy tore her eyes away from the tiny box to meet Giles’ eyes.

“Buffy,” Giles began, with his most exhausted fatherly voice in full effect, “I certainly know what is expected of me when I travel, and that it does not matter the nature of this travel. Saving Willow from herself and helping her through her recovery hardly excuses me from the requirement of getting gifts.” He sighed affectionately. “Open it.”

Buffy grinned in spite of herself, and made herself move with care to open the package. She untied the string and unfolded the paper that covered the box. Under the paper was a tiny velour jewelry box, deep royal blue in color. “Oh, Giles,” Buffy said, her quiet awe evident.

Buffy lifted the lid of the box to reveal a white gold necklace with a small charm whose shape she didn’t recognize. “It’s a symbol of protection,” he explained, “one that’s supposed to guard the wearer against both physical and supernatural harm.”

Buffy felt a little overwhelmed at the thoughtfulness of the gift. Not trusting herself to speak with an even voice, she simply gathered up her hair on top of her head and turned around so Giles could put the necklace on her. It sat just above her ever-present cross necklace. It looked like it had always belonged there.

She turned back to Giles, but had trouble meeting his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice strained. Giles gathered Buffy into his arms.

“You’re very welcome, Buffy.”

“I missed you.” Buffy’s voice came out meek and small, quite unlike the Slayer that most knew. Giles, however, understood where this voice was coming from. It was also the reason he had felt compelled to leave last year. Buffy was like a daughter to him. She needed him. And while what he craved most was being needed, he also knew that he would stunt her growth if he didn’t push her out of the nest, so to speak. So he had left, despite neither he nor Buffy really wanting him to go.

“I missed you, too,” Giles replied. He tried to sound matter-of-fact with this statement, but he was quite sure that his voice shook a little as he forced the words out.

The pair stood there for another moment, taking their time in the embrace. Finally, Giles whispered, “Buffy, I love you, but you smell like chicken patties. I’m going to stop hugging you now.”

Buffy laughed and let go of her Watcher, hiding her face as she wiped away a stray tear. “I better go take a shower and make sure Dawn’s all good with homework and stuff. She just started at the new high school and I want to make sure we get into good routines before she gets eaten by a giant snake or turned into a hyena.”

“Yes, very sensible,” Giles agreed. He paused, trying to sound as casual as possible as he asked his next question. “Is Willow here?”

“Yeah, she’s upstairs. She just went to bed right before you got here. She seemed pretty tired. I put her stuff in my room so she wouldn’t have to…you know.”

Giles nodded. “Do you mind if I go check on her? Today was a long day and I want to see if she’s alright.”

Buffy swept her arm up towards the stairs, inviting Giles to head on up. He tried to keep his feelings on an even keel, but his earlier realization of his attraction towards Willow was making everything jumbled and confused. He had to stop himself from jogging up the stairs, focusing his energy on taking slow steps and keeping his breath even. He was excited to see Willow again. He had been next to her all day, since last night in fact, yet he was drawn to her. He needed to see her.

He paused outside of Willow’s bedroom door, listening intently to see if he could hear any evidence that she was awake. After a moment, he heard nothing, so he gripped the doorknob and gently twisted it open. Light from the hallway spilled in to reveal Willow passed out in bed, almost exactly as Giles himself had fallen asleep earlier that afternoon. Willow, still dressed in the same clothes she had worn on the journey home, was lying on her stomach with her arms by her sides. She didn’t move or make a sound when Giles opened the door, so he stole into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. He walked over to the side of the bed and leaned over just slightly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He brushed a lock of Willow’s fire-red hair behind her ear. Her mouth twitched into a smile.

Giles looked around and saw a high-back lounge chair in the corner of the room. He moved it slightly so that it was facing the bed, and he sat down. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he was still exhausted. He had slept for several hours just prior, but he needed much more sleep. He hadn’t intended to doze in the chair, keeping watch over Willow as she slept, but that is precisely what he did.

\--------------------

As the first rays of sunlight streamed into Willow’s room, the witch slowly started to lift out of sleep. She opened her eyes. Rupert Giles, scourge of the supernatural, Watcher to the Slayer, was dead asleep in a white wicker chair. At some point, he had covered himself with a crocheted blanket and was lightly snoring. He still had his glasses on.

Willow grinned a wide and toothy smile, careful not to laugh aloud and wake the Watcher. She had seen Giles fall asleep many times, especially over those late nights in the school library, but the sight never got old. He was not what one might call a graceful sleeper, but there was something endearing about the goofy expression he wore while he was dreaming.

Suddenly, Willow’s mind went back to the day before, when she had woken up with her face pressed against Giles’ neck. He had been so close. She smelled his aftershave. It was a very masculine scent, something she had gotten a tiny whiff of lots of times, but when she awoke against him she got hit with both barrels. In that moment on the plane, a tiny twinge down through her hips had made it clear to her that she was far from over her high school crush (at least, the crush other than Xander Harris), and that same twinge returned now as she watched the Watcher sleep.

It had been months since she had last felt anything sexual for anyone, and although it wasn’t totally surprising that her first stirrings were for her long-time infatuation, she was concerned. Was she developing an unhealthy attraction to Giles? Was it because he had been so kind and supportive to her during her recovery? Would these feelings pass if she just ignored them?

_And aren’t you supposed to be gay now?_ she wheedled herself. _Well, apparently not that gay,_ she thought. She looked back over at Giles and traced his features with her eyes. He had a few more lines in his face than the men her age, that’s for sure. His hairline was a bit further back. They had few shared cultural references. Well, at least outside of the reference section. She stifled a giggle at her stupid pun.

Without realizing she was doing it, Willow discovered that she was rubbing herself through the fabric of her pants. In shock, she stopped, but in doing so she almost let out an audible whine. That had felt good. Why stop now? After all, she was on her stomach, so no one could see anything, and she was in her own bedroom. She resumed the slow circles her fingers had been doing. She closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the sensation. God, it had been so long.

She opened her eyes again and looked at Giles. She imagined what it would be like if he woke up and saw what she was doing. Would he be horrified? Ashamed? Disgusted? Or maybe even excited? The possibility of being caught, something that would normally scare Willow away from anything, actually made her more enthusiastic. She could feel herself start to get wet. Taking care to move slowly and silently, she lifted her hips up off the bed just enough to slip her hand inside the waistband of her pants. She now began rubbing her clit in earnest, the sensation so intense that she let out the tiniest whisper of a gasp. Clamping her mouth shut, she closed her eyes and imagined that Giles was the one touching her.

In her mind, they were back at the library, alone in the middle of the night, burnt out from research but too wired to go home. Giles had cornered her at the far end of the stacks, away from the harsh lights of the front desk. At first, she made excuses, got embarrassed, politely declined. She was interested but scared. Giles never let her out of his sight, never raised his voice above a whisper. He turned her face to his and, pausing to meet her eyes and ascertain her agreement, pressed his lips to hers. In her fantasy, he said, “Just say ‘no’ and I’ll leave, I’ll never approach you like this again.” But she couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to say no. So she met his eyes and said nothing. After a moment, he kissed her with fire behind it, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist so that his erection rubbed against her clit through their clothes.

That was what Willow imagined as she feverishly moved her hand, rubbing her sensitive nub with two fingers, feeling shockingly close to orgasm. _Are you really going to do this with Giles right there?_ she scolded herself. But the answer was obvious as she picked up speed. She imagined Giles undoing his pants in that library scene, ripping her panties off, and fucking her right there against the stacks. With that thought, Willow’s orgasm washed over her in waves, the pent-up stress of the last few months only serving to intensify the sensation. It took her several minutes to come down and for her breathing to return to normal. She realized she had been panting raggedly, and fairly audibly. She chanced a peek over at Giles, but his eyes were closed. She sighed, mostly in relief, but a tiny bit of her was disappointed. She had almost hoped to be caught. Looking at the clock and, realizing that she was nowhere near sleepy, Willow resigned herself to being awake. Grabbing some clothes out of a drawer, she exited the room to take a shower.

Giles dared not open his eyes again until he heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. He had heard everything. And he had seen more than enough.

He had been soundly sleeping until he thought he heard Willow stirring. The long nights by her bedside in England had trained him well, and he knew immediately when Willow was awake. But the next sound he heard kept him from opening his eyes. Was it a moan? His curiosity almost got the better of him, but he didn’t know if she was looking at him, and he didn’t want to ruin anything by showing her that he was awake. After a few more moments of listening, he understood that she was doing exactly what he thought she was. His cock stiffened painfully at the realization. He waited another full minute before allowing one eye to open just a tiny sliver. When he saw that Willow’s eyes were jammed shut, he decided to risk it and opened both of his eyes.

What he saw was pure heaven. Willow, eyes crinkled closed and mouth pressed into a firm line, was trying desperately to keep ahold of herself while simultaneously starting to lose control. Her hand was working inside her pants and she was clearly close to orgasm. He looked down at himself and saw that he was completely covered by the blanket he had grabbed during the night and that Willow would not be able to see if he were to touch himself. In total silence, he unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock. The relief was tremendous. He began to stroke slowly, intending just to feel a little pleasure as he watched his dearest witch give into her desires, but soon he realized that it would be quite impossible.

He saw Willow’s hips rotate back a little, then buck forward, her back arching and twisting as she got closer to orgasm. Giles was completely overcome, and although he wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his wakefulness a secret, he knew he was past the point of being able to stop. Within moments, he was rocked by his own orgasm, just seconds before Willow herself audibly gasped. Giles allowed himself to watch her come, but quickly did his best to return to his previous state. He forced himself to even out his breathing and relax his face so that it appeared he had never awoken.

Since Willow had gotten in the shower, he figured it had worked, but now he had another problem to deal with. The blanket had been considerably…sullied, and it would need to be washed. He couldn’t just sit there. He had to deal with it, and Willow’s time in the shower was the best opportunity he was likely to get.

\------------------

As Willow finished getting dressed and exited the bathroom, she smelled a most welcome scent wafting up from the kitchen: pancakes. Trotting down to the kitchen, her breath hitched a little in her throat as she saw Giles scooting around the kitchen preparing breakfast. _Jesus, Willow_ , she said to herself, _you’re going to have to get a grip if you’re going to be around Giles. Just because you let yourself get carried away one time doesn’t mean anything’s different_.

Putting on her game face, Willow strode confidently into the room and greeted the Watcher. “Heya, Giles, breakfast time already?”

Giles, having been preparing for this moment and doing his best impression of a disaffected chef, listed, “Pancakes, bacon, toast.”

Willow clapped in honest excitement and seated herself at the kitchen island. She had the fleeting thought that this whole operation would go a lot more quickly if she used magic to prepare the food. Mentally, she scolded herself and went through the questions she had been practicing for months. _Is anyone in danger? No. Is magic the only recourse? No. Would using magic serve the greater good in a significant way? No._ Knowing full well the answer, she tacked on a final question: _Are you just thinking about using magic because you’re hungry and impatient?_ Her mouth twitched down into a small frown, annoyed with herself that she had been home less than a day and already had to talk herself out of doing something dumb.

Eager to shake off the lapse in judgment, Willow inquired, “So what’s with the Chef Giles routine? Since when are you guy-who-makes-breakfast?”

In mock offense, Giles held an oven-mitted hand to his chest. “Why Willow, I’ll have you know that I am quite an accomplished cook. I only burn things a quarter of the time.” He and Willow shared an easy laugh, putting both of them a little at ease.

The sound of uneven thumping coming down the stairs let them know that Dawn was on her way. “Breakfast, nice!” the girl observed approvingly. “You look good in a kitchen, Giles!”

Somewhat dourly, Giles replied, “thank you, Dawn. I shall endeavor to please.”

“BUFFY, BREAKFAST!” the teenager hollered, loudly enough to deafen all in the room.

A minute later, considerably quieter footsteps signaled the arrival of the Slayer, who made it clear that she hungered for pancakes this Saturday morning. As Giles churned out flapjack after flapjack, the ladies sat or stood with their plates, eagerly consuming all that was offered. Indulgently, Giles arranged bacon in the shape of a smiley face for Dawn, earning a roll of the eyes despite her secret appreciation of the silly breakfast.

After Giles himself had begun to eat and the rest of the crew were stuffed, Buffy took on an authoritative tone as she set out the plan for the day. “So, new demon in town, seems like bad news. Want to head over to the Magic Box and get our research on? Xander said he’d swing by first thing.” 

Giles stated in a way that he hoped was casual, “I’ve got to wait a few minutes. I have a load of laundry in the washer and I’d like to switch it to the dryer before we go.” Willow hitched an eyebrow for an instant before she made herself smooth out her expression.

"Laundry?” Dawn asked. “Your machines broken at your house?”

“No,” Giles smiled. He put down his plate, then took off his glasses and started cleaning them. “I just noticed one of the blankets upstairs was a bit musty and I figured I’d wash it.”

Willow felt a suspicion about the real reason behind washing the blanket, but instantly talked herself out of that silly delusion. Giles was just being nice and proactively helping around the house. Nothing untoward had happened. At least, nothing other than what she herself had done. Still, Giles seemed to be acting kind of weird. He was using that sing-song voice that he put on whenever he was trying to convince someone of something and didn’t want them asking too many questions. 

Her mind went back to earlier that morning. The corner of her mouth pulled down into a slight frown. Although she felt a little silly even thinking this way, she was ashamed that she fantasized about someone other than Tara. She had betrayed Tara when they were together, and the two of them had just reconciled before she was killed. Having sexual thoughts about someone else felt like another betrayal, something Willow understood to be inevitable but still felt guilty about. A childish part of her thought that Giles didn’t count because he had been there first, in a manner of speaking, but being Willow’s crush for years before she even knew Tara. 

In the time that Willow sat pondering the issue, Giles had slipped down to the basement to perform the aforementioned laundry swap. Willow took the opportunity to clear her mind and try to get into the right mental space to help Buffy research this new demon guy. _You’re going to have to be able to think about something other than guilt and Giles sometime_ , she told herself. _There’s real stuff to do._

Giles came back up the steps to rejoin the group. “Ready to go?” His enthusiasm made Willow suspicious.


	4. A Friend in Wolf's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to The Magic Box for the first time, Willow struggles with her feelings of guilt. An old friend appears and throws Willow for a loop.

Giles turned the key in the door of the Magic Box and held the door open for Dawn, Buffy, and Willow to enter. Buffy and Dawn swept right in and went over to the meeting table, but Willow hung back. She felt as though she had to face horrific memories in every place she went now that she was home. Entering Buffy’s house had been hard, and even the thought of going back to her old bedroom still made her queasy. Now, back in the shop, she had vivid memories of battling Anya, Buffy, and Giles here. For a split second, she could see Giles collapsed on the floor under the rubble she had brought down onto him. She froze, closing her eyes tight and holding her breath. She counted to three, then opened her eyes again. The rubble was gone. The store was fine. Giles was walking up behind her, perfectly healthy and upright. He placed his hand at the small of her back, looking down at her face.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Willow admitted. She wasn’t sure what else to say. Giles, the man she had nearly killed in this very store, was comforting her and looking after her. Her guilt slithered through her veins, urging her to turn around and leave. She had actually started to turn to face the door when none other than Alexander Harris walked in.

The relief and pure joy on Xander’s face was evident. “Wil.” He crossed the space between them in three huge strides and picked Willow up off the ground with his firm embrace. She could feel concern coming off of him, and it was no surprise. He had tried to call her every single day of her two-month stay in Bath, and every day she had chosen not to take the call. She couldn’t face him, even over the phone.

But now here he was, hugging her as though he thought she might try to escape, and she hugged him back in earnest. She did her best to radiate love and appreciation, and Xander seemed to relax a little. After a minute, Willow mumbled into Xander’s jacket, “This is how it ends. Swallowed up by Xander Harris’ coat.”

Xander released Willow and held his arms up as a show of harmlessness, laughing at himself. “Sorry Wil, I may have gotten a little carried away. That’s what happens when I don’t see my best friend for two months. Or talk to her.” The last few words were pointed, with barely-concealed hurt behind them.

Willow opened her mouth to try to explain, but just then Giles clapped his hands together and said, a little too loudly, “Well, shall we get down to business?”

The gang gathered around the table at the shop and listened to Buffy’s tale of her encounter with this new demon. The demon was a necromancer, one bent on raising the dead to wreak havoc all over Sunnydale. “Gotta love living on a Hellmouth,” Dawn remarked snidely.

Throughout Buffy’s summary, Giles couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. First, he had stood right behind Willow, but that felt too close, too awkward. Then he went over to the counter and tried leaning on it casually, which looked about as natural as a penguin learning to fly. He was unnecessarily far from the group and had to strain to listen to their conversation. Finally, he began pacing back and forth in front of the table.

“Giles.” Buffy looked up at her Watcher with a quizzical expression, a note of knock-it-off in her voice.

“What? Oh, yes, sorry,” Giles bumbled over the words. “So, this demon of yours could be any number of undesirables, but I can’t be sure what kind it is until I’ve completed some research.” He glanced over at Willow, hoping she would volunteer to join him in this task, but she was intently examining her shoes.

The bell at the front of the shop clanged and Giles glanced up to assess the potential customer. “Oz,” he remarked, a mixture of surprise and confusion in his voice.

“Oz?” The barest note of panic was woven into Willow’s question. Her eyes were wide with anxiety. She jumped out of her chair so energetically that it toppled over and landed on the floor with a clang.

Oz walked up to Giles and shook his hand, smiling a bit grimly. He turned the corner of the shelf and his eyes locked onto Willow. He made the slightest movement towards her, barely perceptible, but he restrained himself. Willow looked as though she were planning to run, though whether it was towards Oz or away from him was anybody’s guess.

“Willow.” He swallowed audibly, maintaining eye contact with his ex far past the point of discomfort. “I heard what happened, and I called, but by then you were already in England. Xander said you weren’t taking his calls, so I figured you definitely wouldn’t take mine. And besides, I didn’t want to bother you. You had important stuff going on.” Willow searched her mind for the right words to say. Trying to string a sentence together was like grasping at smoke. Eventually, the scrutiny of Oz’s glance was too much for her and she cast her eyes down, feeling shame without really knowing why.

It was at this moment that Willow and Oz seemed to remember that there were other people in the room besides them. Oz ran a hand over his bushy red hair, exuding a wisp of embarrassment. Willow felt her cheeks go red and turned away from the group, hiding her face as best as she could.

Buffy stood up and affected a cheery tone. “Hey guys, we don’t want to be late for that super important thing we’re doing today!”

“Oh, yeah, that important thing,” Xander agreed, as he put Dawn’s bag on her shoulder for her.

“What –” Dawn began, only to be pushed out the door by both Buffy and Xander, both of whom cast a worried glance back at Willow before slipping out the door of the shop.

Oz breathed out a heavy sigh, then turned to Giles. “Hey, Giles,” he began, “do you mind if I talk to Willow alone for a minute?”

Giles hesitated. He turned and moved very close to Oz, his voice perfectly even. “I’ve spent a lot of time helping Willow work through things,” he said, a clear edge to his words. “I feel responsible for her. If anything were to upset her, or to undo the work that she has put into her recovery, I should be very displeased.”

Oz’s head tilted away from Giles just a fraction of an inch. He hadn’t expected the “if you hurt her, I’ll kill you” speech from Giles, but the ex-librarian sure seemed to mean it. Both Giles and Oz glanced over at Willow, who finally turned back around halfway and looked their way. She met Giles’ eyes and gave him an encouraging nod, indicating that she would be okay. Giles returned the nod, locked eyes with Oz again, and then headed into the back room to organize the office.

For several seconds after Giles left the room, Oz and Willow stood rooted to the floor, waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Oz began. “Willow,” Oz said as he took a hopeful step towards her. “Please tell me that it’s okay to hug you.”

“Oh Oz,” Willow murmured, “of course.”

Willow uncrossed her arms and welcomed the werewolf’s embrace. After a moment, they relaxed into the hug and simply breathed in each other’s scents. Willow still loved Oz, would always love Oz, but everything with him was tinged with sadness, including the way they held each other in the middle of the empty magic shop.

Oz pulled away just a little and looked into Willow’s face. “Walk and talk?” he offered warmly.

“Walk and talk,” Willow agreed, and she grabbed her stuff. “Giles! We’re going for a walk!” She didn’t hear a response, but they shrugged and walked out.

\--------------------

Giles heard them leave. He was in the training room, having walked straight past the office on his way off of the main shop floor. He had some unpleasant impulses to handle. So here he was, collared shirt discarded, beating the hell out of a punching bag. He moved lightly on his feet, his hands guarding his face as he bobbed around the bag. As he sparred with the imaginary foe, he talked to himself.

“Of course Oz would come back.” Punch punch. “He and Willow were perfect together.” Punch kick punch. “Their break-up was unfortunate” – kick punch – “but they both needed time and space to figure themselves out.” Punch punch punch. “Now that they’ve had that, of course they will want to reconnect.” Kick. “Maybe even get back together.” Punch punch.

He dropped his arms and paced around the room. He knew he had no right to feel anything about this. It was ridiculous to feel jealous, especially of a 21-year-old boy. However, his anger at himself and disgust with his feelings wasn’t stopping him from feeling this way. After a break, Giles put his guard up again and continued his assault on the punching bag.

\--------------------

Willow and Oz walked down the main drag in Sunnydale, chatting about their experiences over the last year or so. Oz had spent more time at that temple learning about his inner wolf and practicing meditation. He dropped in to play with a few bands along the way. He even had a girlfriend at one point, but it didn’t work out. He was too nomadic and she was more like a groupie than a girlfriend.

Willow wasn’t sure if Oz brought this girl up to make her jealous or to advertise that he was single, but either way she became uncomfortable and self-conscious. Did he come back here to try to rekindle their relationship? Was there anything to rekindle?

“Oz, don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy to see you, honest…but why are you here? I went through some pretty horrible stuff while you were gone and I didn’t hear from you once.” Willow watched as Oz’s eyes flashed with remorse.

“I know. I talked to Xander. He told me what happened, with the magic and Amy and Tara and Warren. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I don’t know if me being here would have helped anything or not, but I could have at least kept in touch. I should have.”

Willow nodded a little but said nothing.

“Originally, as I hitched a ride down here, I had this crazy idea that maybe you and I could try again.” Oz’s voice hung in the air and his brief pause drew out into a void. He struggled to continue. “But talking to you know, I think that might be impossible,” Oz sighed.

Willow could practically feel Oz’s words cut her, but she knew it was true. There was too much history with them, too much water under the bridge. She had broken his heart, and he had broken hers right back. They had both worked through the feelings of betrayal, but the trust they had once shared was too damaged to be the foundation of a new start for them.

Willow exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “I know.”

Oz took Willow’s hand in his and squeezed it tightly. “I still love you. That’s never going to change.”

Willow accepted Oz’s affectionate gesture. Through her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of their reflection in the plate glass of a secondhand clothing store, an image of what might have been.

“I love you, too. I don’t plan on stopping.” She paused, then continued. “But you’re right. Too much has happened between us, and too much has happened in our lives since then.” Willow squeezed Oz’s hand and looked over at him. “But if you’re willing to settle, I think we could still make pretty great friends.” She smiled sadly.

Oz smiled back, his brow starting to unfurrow. “I think I could go for that.”

An audible rumbling from Oz’s stomach elicited stunned laughter from both of them.

“You know,” Willow said, “we have a bunch of bacon left over at the house.”

Oz leaned over and kissed Willow on the forehead. “God, it’s like…you just get me.”

They smiled genuinely at each other and crossed the street to head towards Buffy’s house.

\-----------------------

Willow leaned back on the couch, rubbing her full tummy as if there were a baby in there.

“I can’t believe I ate so much. I had a huge breakfast this morning. Giles went pancake crazy and we didn’t even try to stop him.”

Oz crooked and eyebrow. “Giles was here this morning? Does everyone live here now?”

Willow laughed. “No, but he stayed here last night. He was worried about how I’d do my first night back. You saw how he was at the Magic Box. He’s gotten kinda protective in the last few months.” Willow learned forward towards the plate of bacon, then thought better of it and collapsed back onto the couch. “You’d think I would get protective of him, considering it was me who almost killed him two months ago.” Willow’s tone took a sad turn, and she didn’t even bother concealing the self-loathing under her last sentence.

Oz turned to face Willow fully. He grabbed her hand and looked in her eyes. “Tell me,” he encouraged.

Over the next hour, Willow explained what had happened with her and Tara, what Warren had done, what Willow had done in revenge. She had to stop a few times, her voice failing her when she admitted the ways that she had put her friends in danger and, eventually, directly harmed them. By the end of the story, she was hoarse from talking and crying.

Willow looked down. “Oh great,” she said through sniffles, “now I have runny mascara on my shirt.”

Oz offered a lopsided smile. “It looks good on you.”

Willow stood up, wiping her face. “I’m going to go upstairs and change my shirt. I’ll be down in just a second.”

Willow climbed the stairs and almost went to the wrong bedroom before she remembered the switch. She felt a wave of nausea thinking about her old bedroom and what had happened there. She practiced her breathing, five seconds in, five seconds out.

In her new bedroom, she doffed her sullied shirt and pulled on a comfy sweater. Even though summer was still in full effect in Sunnydale, the day had clouded over and she was feeling a little chilly. She walked over to the window and glanced outside at the street. Kids were running around in a front yard just a few houses down, screaming with delight and chasing each other. They had no idea that just a few months earlier, they had nearly been blinked out of existence because of her. In fact, every person she would meet for the rest of her life would have been dead if Willow had had her way. She forced herself to turn off her mind and stared out the window, trying her best to think nothing at all.

“Willow?” Oz called from the top of the stairs.

Shaken out of her reverie, Willow replied, “Yeah, in here.”

Oz walked down the hall and entered the room, immediately jerking his head to the side and failing to disguise a look of concern on his face. “What happened in here?”

Willow knitted her eyebrows together and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean? Nothing happened in here. Tara…it happened in the other room.” She gulped and forced herself to move past the image in her mind.

“No, no,” Oz clarified, clearly agitated. “What happened here today?”

Willow’s eyes went wide when she remembered her little act of self-love earlier that morning. Oz’s sense of smell was hundreds of times more sensitive than a regular person’s. Of course he could smell that she had been…excited.

“Well, I…” Willow stammered. She grew angry, angry at her embarrassment and angry with Oz for making her feel uncomfortable about something that was perfectly natural. “Nothing happened, Daniel Osbourne, and it’s none of your business anyway.” She stamped her foot petulantly and turned back to face the window. _That’ll show him_.

“But…with Giles?” Oz didn’t know whether to feel curious or jealous or shocked or horrified.

“What? No,” Willow dismissed, looking back at Oz. “Giles was in this room today but nothing happened with him.”

“I can smell him, Willow,” Oz persisted, distress growing in his voice as he took a step towards her. “And he wasn’t just in here sleeping or talking to you. He was…he did…something. He was very happy in here.” Oz raised his eyebrows and looked at Willow, hoping to get his meaning across without having to spell it out further.

Willow’s eyes grew and she turned to the window again. Her face was practically on fire, her skin as pink as a rose. Her words came out almost as a whisper. “Nothing happened, Oz. At least, nothing that I know about. And I’d rather not know about it.”

There was a finality in her voice that made Oz stop talking, even though he felt compelled to continue the conversation. He smelled evidence of Willow’s sexual arousal, a scent he was extremely familiar with, but he also smelled Giles, and not just the basic everyday smell you get from walking around. Giles had been in this room and had been aroused too, and within the last day. Oz didn’t know if Willow was being truthful with him, but he had no reason to doubt her. She had always been honest with him, even when it killed her to do so.

“I believe you,” he said. “It’s okay, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” Oz crossed the room to Willow and stood next to her at the window. After a few moments, Willow’s agitation gave way to exhaustion. Today, much like yesterday, was shaping up to be one of the most tiring days of her life. She leaned her head onto Oz’s shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arm around her waist and took some of her weight. She closed her eyes and just breathed.

\----------------

Willow and Oz walked back to the Magic Box feeling a little worse for wear, but the fresh air had done them good nonetheless. They entered the store hand in hand, settling back into the feeling of being in each other’s company. Giles, having returned to the counter after his impromptu kickboxing session, felt a wrenching sensation in his chest when he saw the pair walk in holding hands. He had tried to work through his emotions while they were gone. He told himself he was being ridiculous. He told himself he had no right to feel anything about Oz’s return except goodwill. But no matter what he tried to convince himself of, he still felt a pang of possessive jealousy seeing the two of them so close to one another. He immediately removed his glasses and began wiping them on his shirt.

“Oh, good, you’re back,” Giles said in a voice that sounded unnaturally high and forced. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Now that you’re here, I don’t have to feel so bad leaving the counter unattended while I work in the back.”

“No worries, Giles, we’ll help anybody who comes in,” Willow offered brightly, but by the time the words were out of her mouth, Giles was already out of earshot.

Willow crinkled her nose and squinted after Giles, as if she could figure out his problem just by looking really hard at the place he had been standing. Oz, not noticing anything odd, dumped his jacket on a chair and walked around the shop to check out the wares. “Woah, there’s some wild stuff here. Do people really come here to get supplies for spells and charms?”

“Oh, yeah,” Willow nodded as she hopped up to sit on the table, her coat discarded and left on top of Oz’s. “Witches and other practitioners come in here all the time. It’s a one-stop shop.” She grinned, knowing full well that she sounded like a TV commercial.

“Do you get a discount?” Oz inquired as he completed his circuit and wandered back towards Willow.

“Giles usually lets me take stuff for free, especially if I offer to pay so he can feel very gentlemanly by refusing my money. Anya makes me pay, of course. Not a single cent off when she’s working the register.”

Oz smiled and moved closer to Willow. This conversation just felt comfortable, the way they used to talk before things got so complicated. He remembered the first time they spoke, after they both were pulled out of class and offered jobs at a fancy software company. He had been seeing her everywhere for weeks before that, but that was the first time he had learned her name. Something about Willow instantly enchanted him, and ignoring his feelings for her was never really an option. If someone were to ask him, Oz would say he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but his attraction to Willow would have tested that belief.

Willow noticed Oz looking at her with a bemused expression. “Hey, you,” she said, by way of calling him over to her. She reached forward and grabbed both his hands in hers, swinging them slightly in a cutesy way. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Oz smirked with his mouth but his eyes remained troubled. “I was thinking about when we first met.”

“Oh yeah?”

Oz took a step closer to her, his hips almost touching her knees as she sat on the table. Despite being very clear on him and Willow just being friends, Oz had a split-second vision of leaning Willow back on that table and taking her right there. Complicated history or not, he couldn’t deny that he was still attracted to her.

“It’s hard –” he stumbled over his own words, pausing to regroup. “It’s hard to be around you. I know I shouldn’t want you, I know we’re extremely, completely over, but then I look at you and I smell you and I feel the warmth of your skin…” He trailed off without finishing his sentence. He seemed to be looking anywhere but in Willow’s eyes.

Willow’s heart was racing. She knew what he meant. She didn’t know if she could ever truly forgive Oz for cheating on her and leaving her, but sometimes she felt a jolt run through her reminding her what it felt like to be with him. He was the only guy she had ever slept with. And she remembered each time well.

Willow tried to control her breathing, but she was getting more worked up, not less. She looked at Oz at the same moment that he looked at her and their eyes met. Without a word or a moment of hesitation, Oz leaned in and kissed Willow, his hips parting her knees as he came in close to her. She kissed him back, feeling totally lost and confused. She felt as though her body was a balloon floating into the sky, and she had no control over its direction. She was untethered.

Oz put his hands on Willow’s waist and slid her all the way to the edge of the table, right up against him, then slipped his hands underneath her shirt to undo her bra. Willow’s breathing became a harsh rattle, and she lifted her arms over her head so that Oz could remove her shirt and bra in one deft motion. Her hands then went straight to his belt, working at the buckle with shaking fingers. Oz’s tongue found Willow’s and their kiss deepened, straining Willow’s concentration. She gave up on the belt buckle, instead pulling Oz closer with one hand on his back and the other sliding up into his thick, unruly hair. Her breasts were mashed into Oz’s chest, and he could feel how hard her nipples were even through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Ow,” Willow yipped, pulling away from Oz with her hand springing up to her mouth. Her lip had a little blood on it. She looked up at Oz and saw that he was starting to change. His teeth had become longer and more pointed. His eyes were a slightly different shape.

“Oz, your face,” she said, a note of fear in her voice, just as Oz pointed to Willow and said, “Willow, your hair.”

Willow pulled a lock of her hair to the front of her face and saw, to her horror, that it was slowly darkening to black, unevenly, like dappled shadows of autumn leaves. “Oh, no,” she whispered, dread and despair evident in her shaking voice.

Oz brought his hands up to his face and felt his teeth. “Oh, shit,” he whispered hoarsely. Oz backed up hastily as Willow jumped off the table and retreated just as quickly. Oz turned away from her and started chanting something in a language she didn’t immediately recognize. Willow jammed her eyes shut and tried desperately to perform her breathing exercises. Her fear kept rising and rising, making it impossible for her to achieve the slow, even breaths necessary to calm down. She began to panic, tears running down her face, visions of death and destruction flashing before her eyes. _This isn’t happening. Not now. Not this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this._

Moments passed. Oz continued to chant, but his words were less frantic and more methodical. After another minute, he stopped and turned around. His features had reverted to their normal human state. He was not going to change into the wolf.

He looked over at Willow, his heart sick at seeing her so frightened. Cautiously, he approached her and put his hands on her upper arms. “Shh, Willow. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m not going to change.”

“No, I –” she choked out, “I can’t, I don’t know how, it’s not working, it’s not working, I can feel myself losing control, I won’t be able to stop it and then I’ll be dangerous, I’ll hurt people, I’ll hurt you.” Her voice was practically a shriek as she panicked more and more.

“Willow,” Oz said reassuringly, “you’re not going to hurt me. You’re not going to hurt anyone. Everything’s okay. I’m sorry I let that happen, that was stupid. We got carried away but it’s okay now, I promise.”

Oz repeated his assurances over and over, shushing Willow and protectively pulling her close into his arms. Willow finally began to calm down, her breaths still coming in shuddering, stilted gasps. Once she had quieted, Oz released her from his arms and held her out at arms’ length. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I should have known better. We both should have. We should have never let that happen.”

Willow nodded, too miserable to say anything.

Oz grabbed Willow’s coat from the back of a chair and wrapped it around her bare torso. “I have to leave,” Oz said, his voice almost a whisper. “I think you understand why. If I stay, I don’t know if we’ll be safe with each other.” He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she said nothing. She stared into the empty space over his right shoulder.

“I love you, Wil. I’m sorry.” Oz picked up his jacket and glumly walked to the door of the shop. He turned back to cast one last regretful glace back at Willow, and in the next instant, he was gone.


	5. Enter Necromancer, Stage Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Giles comforts Willow in the wake of Oz's sudden departure, the gang must face a new threat: a necromancer demon who has been raising the dead all over Sunnydale. With Willow unable to control her magic sufficiently to help fight the demon, Giles comes up with an unconventional plan to help the witch.

Giles slowly walked back into the main room of the Magic Box. He hadn’t heard everything, but he had a fairly good idea about what might have occurred. When he entered the room, he saw Willow sitting on the floor, her back against the alchemy section. Her hair looked much darker than usual, a frightening reminder of the murderous side he had faced months before. The bright orange color, however, was slowly returning to the tresses. Oz was gone.

Doing his best to project calm energy, Giles strode over to Willow and gently took a spot on the floor next to her, propping himself up against the bookshelf. Willow leaned over onto Giles’ arm and wept. Giles reached across with his other arm and stroked Willow’s hair, doing his best to comfort her. Giles’ calm and nurturing exterior belied the turbulent storm of conflicting emotions beneath. He was profoundly sad for Willow, feeling her pain as though it were his own. He was also angry at Oz for hurting Willow, even accidentally. And he was glad that Oz was gone, though he hated himself for feeling this way.

It took a few minutes for Willow to cry herself out. She did some more breathing exercises, this time much more successfully. She was completely exhausted in every way. “Giles,” she whispered, “what if I can never be with anyone ever again? What if I can’t…” She let the implication stand without saying the words. “What if I can never do that again? What if I can’t control myself? Am I just going to be like Angel, forced to be chaste so I don’t get homicidal?”

Giles took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “Willow, I hardly think that one failed romantic rendezvous is enough to form the basis of your entire future. Angel is cursed, you are not. Maybe you need to do more work before you can be intimate with someone, but that doesn’t mean you are destined to be alone forever.” As he ended his little speech, Giles’ eyes roamed the room and spied a small pile of clothes a few feet away. He realized it was Willow’s shirt and bra. He had a lot of feelings upon identifying these artifacts, none of which could be separated out enough to be named.

Willow lifted her head from Giles’ arm and reached a hand through the front of the jacket still draped around her shoulders. As she wiped her face, she conceded, “You’re probably right. I’m just…so scared. I knew coming back here would be hard, but I feel like my heart is getting squeezed inside my chest every five minutes. What if it never gets easier?”

Giles affected a flippant air, hoping to goad her into a little levity. “Well, Willow, if it never gets easier, you will at least learn how to deal with these things as they come. But I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the hard part. And look, you’re handling it.”

Willow snorted. “Yeah, right,” she intoned sarcastically. “I’m the paragon of handling it.”

Giles stood up, embarrassed at the grunt he gave when he heaved himself off the cold floor. “No,” he assured her, “I’m being serious. Think about how you’ve responded each time things become overwhelming. You’ve practiced your breathing. You’ve cried. You’ve talked to your friends openly and honestly. Where is the weakness there? What do you see that you’re doing wrong?”

“Giles,” Willow said with exasperation, “I’m falling apart every two seconds. I don’t think I’ve gone a single waking hour without crying. One minute I’m laughing, then I’m furious, then I’m sobbing all over myself. I’m going crazy. I’m the messiest mess who’s ever lived.”

Giles crouched down, facing Willow. A deadly serious expression rested on his face. “Willow, you and I have very different definitions of strength.” He kept his eyes focused on her face until she raised her eyes to meet his. The love he had for her was clear, and she could see that he had total faith in her. She was bolstered by his trust, something she wasn’t sure she deserved, but was trying to accept.

Willow sniffled, and her expression and body language made it clear that she wouldn’t continue to argue the point. Coming back to her senses, Willow realized she was almost topless in front of Giles. She hastily scanned the room for her clothes.

Giles realized what Willow was thinking and tactfully stood up, finding a reason to face away. Willow quickly grabbed her clothes and stole into a corner of the shop where Giles couldn’t see her. She hadn’t put on a bra and shirt so hastily since leaving gym class in high school when she was late for a chemistry test. She did more work on her breathing, then wiped her face and smoothed over her hair.

Giles ducked behind the counter and squatted down, pretending to organize the paper shopping bags. When he heard Willow approaching, he slowly rose, careful to wear a totally neutral expression. Giles and Willow turned towards the front of the shop at the same moment, the sound of rain spattering against the window drawing their attention.

Just then, Buffy and Xander scooted in the door, bringing a gust of chilly air with them. Xander had dirt on his face and a scrape above one eye. Buffy looked tousled but unscathed.

“We have a problem,” Buffy announced.

“We just fought like…eight dead guys,” Xander explained, running his hand through his mop of black hair. “Well, I don’t know if they count as dead anymore since they were, you know, moving around and attacking us. And one of them was a woman so I guess they weren’t all guys. I think I’m helping less and less the more I talk here."

Buffy nodded and dropped her coat on the table. “This necromancer guy needs to be dead like, yesterday. He’s going to have half the cemetery up and about by next weekend if we don’t act fast.” Buffy paused, cocking her head at Willow. “Wil, you okay?”

“Yep, I’m fine, fine is me,” she replied. Then, taking in the meaning of what Buffy and Xander were reporting, Willow furrowed her brow like she always did when she was curious. “So you haven’t actually fought the main guy yet? Just the…cronies?”

“Yep,” Buffy answered. “All soldiers, no general. Hey, where’s Oz?”

Giles broke in. “He had to go. Do you have any sense of where this demon is? Does he have a hideout or base of operations here in town?”

“Well,” Buffy began, turning cautiously to Willow, “that’s what I was hoping to talk to you about. Willow, I know you just got back but we could really use one of your locator spells right now. If we knew where to look, even what part of town, that would be a huge help. I wouldn’t ask except this really is an emergency.”

Willow could tell Buffy had been practicing this request in her head on the way to the shop. “I don’t know if I even could pull it off, much less do it safely,” Willow replied. She truly wanted to help Buffy but she wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to control her magic right now.

Buffy looked from Willow to Giles, then back to Willow. She let a moment pass. “Will you try?”

Willow went through the mental checklist. People were in danger. Magic was the only recourse. She was serving the greater good.

Willow exhaled slowly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try. But if I start going all goth-y again, you better be ready to knock me out. I’m not kidding.”

“One concussion, coming up,” Buffy nodded.

“Hey, hey, only IF I get evil again. Don’t go smacking me in the head just for fun.”

“I’ll try to contain my violent urges.”

Willow rolled her eyes at her friend, but was already starting to gather the ingredients for the locator spell. She had done it multiple times before and it wasn’t very complicated, but this would be her first attempt at using magic since getting back to Sunnydale. She wasn’t in Bath anymore, and she wasn’t surrounded by a coven of strong witches. She was on her own.

Within minutes, she had prepared the materials and set up shop at a table in the rearmost part of the store. The sun had set and Giles dimmed the lights of the shop slightly. He and Willow lit several candles and Willow sat down, a look of nervous concentration on her face. She stared down at the map of Sunnydale and began to chant the words of the spell. Her shaking hands performed the necessary functions, sprinkling ingredients over the map. Willow’s anxiety started rising and she imagined all of the ways that the spell could go wrong. It might not work at all. She might accidentally hurt someone. She could light the map on fire for all she knew. Anything could happen. Why was she doing this? She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready.

Her voice cracked and squeaked as her chanting started to falter. Glowing lights began to gather on the map, but as soon as they appeared, they fizzled out. “Shit!” Willow exclaimed, and a burst of energy blew Willow back against the wall of the shop. She collapsed on the floor, barely conscious.

“Willow!” Giles, Buffy, and Xander cried. Giles got to her side first, gently cradling her in his arms, careful to hold her head and neck still.

“Jesus, is she alright?” Xander shouted. Buffy was calling Willow’s name, trying to rouse her friend. Willow was groaning, but she wasn’t all there.

Giles, his voice a thin wisp on the air, called to Willow. “Willow, wake up. Wake up, Willow.”

After a tense moment, the witch’s eyes fluttered open, her drowsiness quickly giving way to panic. “What happened?” she asked, looking up into Giles’ concerned face.

“You were doing the locator spell,” Buffy explained, “but something went wrong and you got knocked on your ass pretty hard. You were out of it for a second.”

“I told you not to concuss me unless you had to,” Willow sarcastically chided her friend.

Buffy smiled in relief. “Well, I’ll try to remember that next time.”

Willow rolled her eyes, then winced in pain as Giles helped her up. “Oh, yeah, next time. Like I’m thinking about doing that again.”

Out of Willow’s sight, a flicker of annoyance crossed Buffy’s face and it was clear that her focus was on the necromancer demon, now that she knew Willow was okay. Buffy knew better than to say it aloud, but she had really been counting on Willow’s locator spell to work, and now she was out of options.

Xander pulled Buffy aside and spoke to her with quiet intensity. “Buffy, I know why you asked Willow to help you, but don’t you think this is all moving a little fast for her? I mean, she’s been back in town, what, a day, and you’re already annoyed that she’s not pulling her weight and helping you slay demons?”

Buffy’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Xander, I get it, I really do, and I don’t want to see Willow get hurt. And I definitely don’t want to jeopardize her recovery. But this demon guy isn’t going to stop for no reason. He needs to BE stopped, and the only one who can do that is me. I need to find this guy before the walking dead population of Sunnydale outnumbers the living. I need Willow’s help. I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”

“Well, you need to find another way. I’m not going to let her try this again. We’ll figure something out.” Xander stared into Buffy’s eyes to make sure he was making himself clear. Buffy eventually nodded, then brought her hand to her forehead in worry, unsure of what they could possibly do to stop this demon.

Giles got Willow to her feet, although she was unsteady and clearly in pain. For the fifth time, she refused his request that she go to the hospital just to be safe. “I just want to go home and rest. If I don’t feel better in the morning, I’ll go to the doctor, I swear.”

Giles set his mouth into a line, clearly displeased that Willow was refusing medical treatment, but not willing to take her against her wishes. “Buffy,” he called, “Willow needs to go home.”

“Oh, uh,” Buffy’s eyes scanned back and forth rapidly as she figured out the logistics. “Would you take her home, Giles? The night is young and I don’t think Xander and I got the last of the necromancer’s, uh, puppets. I need to patrol.”

Giles nodded. “Alright, I’ll take her. Xander, will you patrol with Buffy? I don’t like the idea of her being alone while we still have no idea where this demon is.”

“On it,” Xander replied, and he and Buffy hastened to the exit. The door slammed shut behind them and Willow winced at the noise.

“Come now, Miss Rosenberg,” Giles said as he guided her out back to his car, “if you’re refusing medical treatment, I’m at least going to make sure you get into bed safely.”

\----------------

As Giles steered Willow into her bedroom, he turned on her bedside lamp and gingerly seated Willow on the edge of the bed. He helped her out of her jacket and slid her shoes off, folding the jacket and placing it atop her shoes in a neat pile by her bedroom door. As awful as Willow felt, she enjoyed a moment of affectionate amusement at Giles’ fussy Britishness. Giles knelt on the floor in front of Willow, looking up into her face with open concern.

“Willow, I know you’ll likely hit me for saying it, but is there any way I could persuade you to let me take you to hospital?”

Willow felt a soft smile creep onto her face. “Giles, really, I’m okay. I mean, not I’m feeling great, but I just got kind of shaken up is all. I shouldn’t have tried doing a spell. Magic has a way of making you pay for it if your heart’s not in it. I was too tired, distracted, and nervous. It was stupid to try.”

Giles rose and turned to sit on the bed next to Willow. He put his arm around her consolingly, noting a large bruise just starting to form, the bluish hue peeking out from the neck of her sweater. “It wasn’t stupid, Willow. You wanted to help, and you felt you needed to try. Now you know a little more about your limits and you have a clear goal to work on in your training. We can work on a locator spell next week if you’re feeling up to it then.”

“By next week, we’re going to be partying with a hundred corpses. Buffy needed my help now, tonight, and I let her down.” Willow hung her head. Her back and neck were starting to stiffen from being knocked against the wall of the shop.

“Willow, you’re already bruised enough. I don’t think beating yourself up more is going to make you feel better. What you need now is some quality sleep.”

As he spoke, Giles stood and gently maneuvered Willow so that she was fully lying on the bed. She let herself be moved and decided not to make a fuss. She was lucky Giles hadn’t driven her straight to the hospital against her will.

Willow closed her eyes and let her body begin to relax. Giles turned to leave her in peace, but Willow quietly pleaded, “Don’t go.”

Giles turned back to face Willow and felt his heart swell with affection for her. He spied the chair where he had spent the previous night, and felt a twinge of guilt over his tactless behavior that morning. Willow deserved better than that.

“Alright.”

Willow scooted all the way to one side of the bed, lying on her side facing the night stand. She drowsily patted the other half of the bed behind her. Giles had not been expecting an invitation to share Willow’s bed, but he knew neither of them had ulterior motives. Willow needed to feel safe. Giles would of course provide that for her.

Giles climbed onto the bed, the springs creaking with his movements. He placed himself in the “big spoon” position behind Willow, leaving what he hoped was a suitable amount of space between them. He reached across Willow and turned out the lamp, casting the room into total darkness. He let his hand rest on Willow’s arm and moved his face closer to the back of her head.

“Good night, Willow,” Giles whispered. He chastely kissed the back of her head, his nostrils full of the smell of her shampoo.

“Night, Giles,” Willow replied, already well on her way to falling asleep.

\---------------

Giles awoke some amount of time later. It was still full dark and he couldn’t see a clock from where he was. His hand was still on Willow’s arm, and he could feel her even breathing as she slept peacefully beside him.

He mulled over his concern for Willow. She represented an improbable combination of fragility and power. Parts of her were incredibly strong, and Giles had often been awed by the grit she displayed in some of her darkest hours. At the same time, however, she had been shaken to her core by the events of the last several months, and her self-confidence had been shattered. Her anxiety crept into every aspect of her life, made so much worse by the remorse she felt over her actions after Tara’s death. She had to find a way to get past the guilt, practice her magic, and regain her sense of self. One of those alone would be a tall order, and Willow was trying to do all three at once.

Giles tried to parse out the issues in his mind. He had spoken to Willow about her feelings of guilt a dozen times, and every time they came back to the same concept: Willow felt the need to be punished. She had expected to be, and had told him so when they were in England. Willow had always been a person who revered authority and felt comforted by external authority structures. She worked hard to please her teachers, avoided breaking the law, and took etiquette very seriously. Giles appreciated these things about Willow, but now they were getting in the way. She couldn’t accept that her own self-loathing and moral struggles constituted sufficient punishment; she needed an external force to hold her accountable. That’s the only way that it would “count.”

In his role as the school librarian, Giles had occasionally been in a position to enforce rules or punish students, although it was rare. Buffy and her friends had always been envious of his ability to dole out detentions, but the truth was that he had very little power at the school.

Suddenly, Giles had an idea. Years before he met Buffy and Willow, when he had left university and rebelled against everything he knew, he fell in with a rough crowd. Besides summoning Eyghon and occasionally joyriding in stolen cars, Giles had also gotten pretty deep into the BDSM sex scene in London. To his own surprise, he had found himself a natural dominant, relishing the feeling of power over others. He hadn’t been much for all the leather and crass affectations of those who demanded to be called “Sir” or “Mistress”, but the control – that was something he took to very easily.

Part of the control was meting out punishment. If his partner disobeyed his explicit command, a swift consequence must follow. If he told her to be quiet and she cried out, he might smack her on the ass. If he told her not to orgasm and she did anyway, he might place her body in a stressful position and tease her until she shook uncontrollably, the sweat standing out on her forehead. Although he always felt ashamed of this past and considered these tendencies to be brutish and perverse, he had to admit that he enjoyed them immensely. He loved when a woman gave herself completely to him. After all, none of his partners have ever been forced to do anything – consent was extremely important in these activities, and they could have called any session to a halt at any moment. He also felt a twisted sort of pleasure by establishing rules that his lover was bound to break, then punishing her for it.

_Maybe_ , he thought, _that’s what Willow needs. She is so caught up in her need to be punished that she can’t move on in her life._ He spent a moment luxuriating in all of the things he would do to Willow if he had free reign over her.

_Rupert, you’re disgusting_. He face burned with a sudden wave of shame and self-loathing. _Obviously, you have feelings for the girl, but now you’re thinking about bending her over a desk and spanking her, as if that’s supposed to be some sort of therapy? As if it’s not for your own sick enjoyment? You’re horrible. She trusts you._

Giles batted the idea around in his head back and forth but didn’t manage to come to any conclusions. He knew what he wanted, but he struggled to ascertain if such a course of action might serve to help Willow. At his core, that was most important to him. A part of him was in agony as long as Willow was, and he was desperate to help her.

Willow cooed and shifted on the bed, rolling over and eliminating the space between her and Giles by settling against his chest in a gentle cuddle. His hand, which had been resting atop her arm before, delicately shifted to her back, welcoming Willow into his embrace. Giles’ thoughts became more clouded than ever.


	6. Striking a Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the failure of Willow's locator spell, Giles concocts a plan to initiate a training regimen with Willow, but not anything that would be council-approved.

Willow awoke late Sunday morning feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

She started to roll over, but the soreness across her back and shoulders made her grunt in pain. Thankfully her head only felt a little sore, so she was hopeful that she had escaped the concussion that she and Buffy had joked about, but she was still in rough shape. Bracing herself, she sat up, exhaling loudly. On the nightstand next to her, she saw a note.

_Willow,_

_I stayed with you until sunrise, then left to have a shower and get clean clothes. I’ll be at the shop by 8. Call me there when you awake. If I don’t hear from you by noon, I’ll come check on you. No one expects you to do anything today other than rest. You need to take care of yourself._

_Love,_

_Giles_

Willow couldn’t help but smile as she read the note in Giles’ tidy cursive loops. She would have killed to get a note like this from Giles in high school, something on paper – something that said “Love, Giles” – that she could keep forever. A talisman.

Although she convinced herself that she was grown up now and didn’t need a note to obsess over, she still reread it four times before gently placing it back on the nightstand. She picked up her phone and dialed the number for the Magic Box.

“Hello, the Magic Box?”

“Oh, hi Anya, this is Willow.”

“Hello, Willow. How is your recovery going? Have you slain anyone lately?”

“No, Anya, no slaying lately.”

“Excellent, I am very happy to hear that. And you don’t intend to cast a spell on me and use me for your evil plans, yes?”

“No evil plans, no spells on you, no nothing.”

“Wonderful. You know, I was very glad when you didn’t kill everyone.”

Willow closed her eyes and shook her head a little, somehow still surprised by the things that came out of Anya’s mouth. “Well, me too, Anya.”

“Are you coming to the shop today?”

“Yeah, I was going to head there in a little bit. Will you tell Giles that I woke up and I’m fine, and I’ll see him soon?”

“Sure thing. I look forward to seeing you again and also maybe selling you things! Bye!”

Willow didn’t even get a chance to respond before the click let her know that Anya had already hung up. She put down the phone and slowly eased her way from her bedroom to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would help get rid of some of the soreness.

An hour later, Willow felt marginally better. She was showered, dressed in one of her cutest skirts, and full of ibuprofen. She even felt as though she had gotten some good sleep, despite her rough night and the accompanying injuries. She walked over to the Magic Box feeling almost okay, and even stopped by the local bakery on the way.

When she entered the magic shop, the place was actually fairly busy. Three customers were crowding the jewelry rack, two more were browsing the Magic for Beginners books, and there was a line of three people at the counter where Anya, face framed with auburn curls, was deftly entering numbers into the register. Anya glanced over at Willow and smiled broadly, clearly pleased with her capitalistic endeavors, and then pointed towards the training room in the back. Willow nodded and smiled at Anya, happy that she was doing so well. Since Xander’s callous rejection of Anya on their wedding day, Willow was worried that Anya was losing it, but she seemed to be getting through everything okay. Well, yes, she had agreed to become a vengeance demon again, but you could hardly blame her.

Willow poked a head into the training room. “Giles?” She stepped in and put her stuff down on the table just inside the door. “I brought pastries!” She heard what could only be described as a very English sound of intrigue and followed it to find Giles setting up a table of small objects on the other end of the room.

“Whatcha doin’?” she inquired as she looked down at the odd assortment of items. Giles had gathered a pencil, a match stick, and a penny on the table.

Giles turned to Willow. “When you were first learning how to do magic, what was the first thing you tried?”

Willow paused, then answered, “I practiced levitating things, small stuff.”

“Precisely. My thought is that by starting at the beginning, we can practice safely and rebuild your confidence at the same time.” Giles seemed rather chuffed, his eyes alight with energy.

Willow gave a doubtful expression, but agreed by way of a noncommittal shrug. The motion set her shoulders on fire and she winced.

“How are you feeling?” Giles asked. “Are you in much pain?”

“Only when I use any of my limbs or muscles or basically any part of my body.”

Giles’ lecture voice took over. “Well, you took a serious hit yesterday when that spell backfired, and you’re lucky you’re not hurt worse. Your injuries could have been quite serious.”

“I know,” Willow relented with a sigh, “I am lucky.”

Apparently satisfied with her response, Giles crossed the room to rummage through the enticing pink box filled with assorted sugar bombs. Willow followed and selected a cinnamon roll for herself. Giles, through a mouthful of strudel, said, “I know we talked about waiting a while to practice, but if you’re up for it, I thought we’d see what we could do today.

Willow choked on her pastry. “Today? Now?”

As he walked across the room, Giles said, “Well, we certainly don’t have to, but I think that waiting might actually make things worse. Your self-doubt is really started to get the better of you.” He said the last few words with great softness in his voice.

Willow put down the cinnamon roll and crossed her left arm in front of her stomach, her right hand up by her lips. She chewed on her thumbnail absentmindedly as she stared at the little items on the table.

Giles looked at her with his eyebrows raised, inclining his head and inviting her to give it a try. Willow put her arms by her sides and stood square in a ready position. She took a deep breath and reached one arm in front of her, her fingers delicately reaching toward the match stick.

The match stick rolled on the table, then one end of it lifted slightly. After a second, the match fell and stopped moving. Willow huffed and squirmed in her spot, clearly disappointed in the result.

Giles moved himself to be next to her. “Willow,” he said lightly as he placed his right hand on the middle of her back, “when you first began toying with magics, you were excited with every spell you tried, every incantation you learned. You approached it with an open mind and an open heart. You weren’t scared.”

Willow exhaled in a snort and looked down at the ground, then planted her feet back into her ready stance.

“Your power comes from a place deep within you. If you’re closed to it, you won’t be able to access that power.” Giles placed his left hand on Willow’s upper chest, at the level of her collarbones. “Feel the magic here. Try again.”

Willow closed her eyes and did her breathing exercise. She tried to remember what it felt like to approach magic without fear.

_God, I was so naïve._

She pushed away her negativity and tried again. _Remember how it felt to do magic with Tara at the dorms_. A bloom of positive energy rose in Willow’s chest. She opened her eyes, sighted the match stick, and lifted it off the table. It felt so easy that it was as though the match had lifted itself.

She felt a tiny moment of indulgent pride, grinning toothily and pressing her tongue between her teeth. Giles permitted himself a small smile. Giles and Willow locked eyes. Willow saw that Giles was looking at her with admiration, but there was something else. There was a desire there, something she hadn’t seen before. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it frightened and excited her. She could feel magical energy dancing on her skin.

With his hand still on her torso, Giles could feel her heartbeat speed up. He had an uncontrollable urge to lean in and kiss her. She was so close. The warmth of her body was radiating out into his hands. She was so close.

Dawn popped up behind them and asked, “Whatcha doin’?”

Willow and Giles both practically jumped out of their skins. A training dummy across the room spontaneously combusted. Dawn shrieked. Giles, keeping his cool, grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher and put out the flames before any real damage was done, at least beyond the dummy, which was still smoking a little.

Giles opened the windows in the training room. “Hello, Dawn,” he said with and air of exasperation. “Not busy today, I take it?”

“Nope,” she replied, “my friends are all doing stuff so I figured I’d see what you guys are up to. You doing magic?”

“Just a tiny bit, Dawnie,” Willow answered. “I still have a lot of work to do before I could really do anything cool, but I did just levitate a match.”

“You taught me how to do that years ago. What else is new?”

Giles shot a murderous look at Dawn that silenced her immediately. Willow didn’t say anything, feeling neither proud enough to defend her modest achievement nor depressed enough to wallow in her lack of magical ability.

Buffy’s voice called from the front of the shop. “Giles, Willow, you guys back there?”

Dawn replied, “Yeah, they’re back here, Willow’s practicing magic!”

Buffy and Xander entered the training room. “What’s burning?” Buffy asked.

“Nothing,” Willow and Giles replied in unison.

Buffy narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but noticed the pink box of breakfast foods. Her scrutiny was thoroughly subverted. “Ooh, bear claws!”

\----------------

“So, we think the demon necromancer thing has to be close to those he’s raising when he’s performing the spell. Like, really close. We tracked down the names of some of the people that got…reanimated, and then we found their corresponding graves. They were all right near each other, sometimes next to each other. We figure that if this guy was just casting a wide net, the bodies would have been scattered throughout the cemetery. But since they’re all right on top of each other, it probably means that the demon is on site, raising the bodies while he’s there.”

Buffy hoisted herself onto the counter of the Magic Box as Xander looked on and Giles, Dawn, and Willow processed the information Buffy had presented. The afternoon sun was slanting in through the windows of the shop. Business had slowed to a trickle, and Anya had left to embark on some vengeance work.

“That’s quite clever, Buffy,” Giles remarked, beaming more than just a little with pride at her work.

“I’d like it more if you didn’t sound so surprised,” Buffy replied scornfully, but couldn’t help smiling anyway.

“Have you figured out a specific pattern for who he’s raising, where they are, or even what time the events are happening?” Willow was in full investigation mode.

“Not yet,” Xander chimed in. “We think he’s doing the magic at night, just because no one has reported seeing anything weird happen in any of the cemeteries in Sunnydale. But that by itself isn’t enough to establish a pattern or predict where and when he’ll go next.”

“Our plan,” Buffy added, “is to pick one cemetery and stake it out each night until he rotates back to it. If we can spread ourselves out properly, we should be able to cover almost the whole grounds of the one on the east side of town. He’s gone there at least twice, so we think it’s likely he’ll return eventually.”

“For tonight,” Giles suggested, “I think it’s wisest if we all get some sleep and rest up. If we have multiple stake-outs in our future, we’re going to want to be fresh.” Willow glanced up at Giles’ face and noticed for the first time that he looked totally exhausted. She realized that for the two nights they’d been back, he had slept in a chair in her room and beside her in bed, assuming he had slept at all. Both times he had woken up at dawn. And that didn’t even factor in the jetlag. He must be a wreck. He was hiding it well.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Buffy nodded appreciatively. “Hey, Willow, did Dawn say you were practicing magic? I didn’t expect you to be back at it so soon. Are you feeling better since last night?”

Willow nodded. “Yeah, I’m definitely achy, but not nearly as bad as I could have been. Giles had a good idea for me to start small, just like I did when I was first learning magic. I levitated a match.”

Although she had been pleased with her accomplishment at the time, telling it to someone who hadn’t been there made her feel kind of silly. What use would match-floating be in a fight with a demon necromancer?

Buffy saw her friend’s face fall and knew that she had pressed Willow too hard the previous night. Xander was right. Willow needed a lot of time and support to heal, and the pressure of saving the world would not help. “Hey, baby steps. I’m proud of you,” Buffy said as she hugged Willow tight.

Giles was impressed with Buffy in so many ways today. Her detective work with the demon had been extraordinary by itself, but her compassion and support of Willow was truly heartening. When Buffy disengaged from the hug, Xander caught her eye and gave her a warm smile of support and love. He knew how hard it was for Buffy to take the pressure off of Willow and leave the magic issue alone.

Dawn piped up for the first time in a while. “Well, this has all been fun, but if we’re not going to go fight anything, I’ve got history homework.” Buffy let out an involuntarily shudder remembering her high school history classes. Willow giggled.

“You good to get home, kiddo?” Buffy hugged Dawn.

“Sun’s still out, it’s a ten minute walk, my legs work…yup, I think I’m good.”

“Alright, I’ll be home later tonight. If you get hungry, no frozen pizzas. I’m still cleaning the oven from the last time,” Buffy scolded her sister.

Dawn rolled her eyes as she gathered her stuff and made her way to the exit. “Yeah, yeah…” And with that, Dawn was out the door.

As Buffy, Giles, and Willow turned back from the door, they found Xander Harris with half a donut in his mouth and another whole one in his hand.

“What?!” he exclaimed with a full mouth.

Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning them as he shook his head and walked away. Buffy and Willow rolled their eyes in unison, resuming their earlier conversation about the demon. Willow hadn’t had a chance to complete any research, but she did remember some bits about necromancers in her earlier studies. She and Buffy mulled over the possibilities as Willow pulled some reference texts off the shelf. Altogether, it took almost two hours to even make a dent in the research. Xander occasionally tried to join in, but his eyes kept glazing over. The only time he perked up was when they ordered a pizza, but afterward it was clear that he was ready to nod off.

Willow looked at Xander with pity and frustration. “Xander, how much sleep have you gotten this weekend?”

“It’s not my fault,” Xander cried defensively. “These work sites start opening up at sunrise, and I’ve been out prowling around with Buffy all night. It’s not compatible with my delicate constitution!”

Buffy put her hand on top of Xander’s. With just a pinch of scolding in her voice, Buffy looked Xander in the eyes. “Go home. We’ll meet up again tomorrow after work to see about putting this cemetery recon plan into action. Go get some sleep.”

Xander agreed and, offering a nod to Giles who was resetting a display before closing time, practically fled the shop to go get some much-needed rest. The last streaks of sun were disappearing behind the buildings as night fell on Sunnydale.

Buffy herself stifled a yawn, but promised Willow she would go to bed early tonight, too. “I just have to go check on Spike. I’m worried about him. Ever since he’s been back, he’s been…off. I don’t know if I can help him, but I’m at least going to try to figure out what’s wrong with him. Besides the having-a-soul thing, anyway.”

Willow’s natural empathy and helpfulness meant that she didn’t take any issue with Buffy’s concern for Spike, but Giles clucked disapprovingly.

“Buffy,” he began, “I know that Spike doesn’t pose a danger to you because of his chip, but it is still beyond me why you have poured so much of your time into him. I understand your history with Angel, but Spike is different.”

For a second, Buffy blanched. She knew full well that Spike actually did pose a danger to her. She had never told Giles or Willow what Spike had tried to do to her in her own bathroom. Only Xander knew about it, and that was because he had found Buffy on the tile floor.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Buffy agreed with Giles for simplicity’s sake. “I know. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But he’s fought alongside us and sacrificed for us. Maybe he’s evil. I don’t know. But he has a soul now. I’m going to try to help him if I can.”

Willow reached out and squeezed Buffy’s hand in support. Buffy returned the squeeze with a grateful smile.

“See you guys tomorrow for cemetery watch?” Buffy confirmed. Giles and Willow nodded, and Buffy grabbed her coat and headed for the door. “Night, you two.”

“Night,” Willow and Giles called.

Willow started to pack up as well, realizing that Giles probably needed sleep as bad as anyone right now. Even so, she found herself dawdling, hoping to take advantage of this time alone. To do what, she had no idea.

Giles himself was dragging his feet, too. He had finished the tasks necessary to prepare to close the store, but he didn’t want Willow to leave. He had been mulling over his punishment idea since last night, and although he was terrified, he wanted to try it. Maybe it was insane, maybe it was totally selfish, maybe it was even dangerous, but the idea was like a virus. He couldn’t get rid of it.

Willow stalked back to the training room to grab the bag she had left there earlier in the day. As she put her stuff back into the satchel, she heard the door close behind her. Then she heard the lock click.

She turned around, her voice uncertain. “Giles?”

Giles stood just inside the doorway. “Willow, did I ever tell you about what I was like after I dropped out of university?”

Willow grinned a little but became slightly uncomfortable by proxy. Giles had always been embarrassed of his rebellious days. The battle with Eyghon a few years ago had been really tough on him, and the gang had learned a lot more about the Watcher’s lurid past than they had ever expected.

“You mentioned how you were pretty unruly. I mean, we found out about Eyghon and all that stuff. And we know you were called Ripper.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the nickname. It was just so ridiculous.

Giles stepped forward until he was just a few inches in front of her. “That’s not everything.” He walked around her in a slow circle, his hands clasped behind his back. His voice was low and smooth, betraying no emotion. He was a model of self-control.

“Oh?” Willow’s question came out as a yelp.

“Indeed,” Giles affirmed. He paused, committing to the path he had decided to take with Willow. “I spent a lot of time with women. Different women. They wanted someone to dominate them and I wanted someone to dominate. I told them what to do, when to do it, and they did it. Or else.”

Willow was overwhelmed with this information. _Why is Giles telling me this? Normally he would rather eat slugs than air his personal history in front of us. Why is he doing this?_

“Or else?” Willow wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that question, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking it.

“Or else they would be punished.” Giles came to stop in front of Willow, looking down into her face even though she refused to meet his eyes.

Willow’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t a total idiot. She knew about some of the things that people did in bed. But Giles?

“Punished?” She knew she sounded foolish asking these parroted questions, but her mind was spinning. It was all she could manage to get out.

“Oh, I would spank them or flog them or do other things to their bodies. Every mistake had a consequence.”

“Why…” Willow asked as she began to find her voice, “why did they let you do these things to them? Why did they let you hit them? Are you telling me you used to beat up women?”

Giles shook his head emphatically. “I never laid a finger on any woman who didn’t ask me to. It was never about anger. If a woman wanted me to stop, all she had to do was say so.”

“So…why did they want you to hit them?”

Giles smiled a little. Willow’s curiosity was kicking in. “Some of them simply liked the sensation. For some people, pain is very pleasurable, especially certain kinds of pain in certain circumstances. Although I don’t have a particular love for doling out pain, it doesn’t bother me to do so if the person enjoys it.

“But for some other people, it’s the idea of giving up control that’s alluring. They like to give their bodies to someone else. This was the arrangement that I always found most satisfying. There is nothing more precious than a woman’s permission to do with her body what you want.”

Willow’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. Giles clearly had a motive for revealing this part of his past, but her mind was racing and she couldn’t figure out how to respond.

Her breathing uneven, Willow asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?” She still kept her eyes cast down.

Giles slowly moved his hand up underneath Willow’s chin, gently using his hooked forefinger to tilt her head up. She was trying not to meet his eyes, but he was patient. Eventually, she had nowhere else to look and made eye contact with him.

“Willow.” Giles’ voice was nearly a whisper. “I’m telling you because I think that you need to be punished. Not because you are bad and deserve it, but rather because you think you are bad and deserve it, and you can’t get past these feelings unless you are actually punished.” Giles pushed through his doubts, and said, “I am volunteering to be the one that does it.”

Willow’s eyes bulged as she understood what the Watcher was saying he wanted to do.

Giles paused, searching Willow’s eyes to see if he could sense her feelings. She hadn’t slapped him and called him disgusting. She hadn’t run out the back door. She hadn’t laughed in his face. Those were the reactions he had feared most. But he could feel the uncertainty coming off of her in waves.

“What would you do?” Willow asked, her voice barely audible.

Giles’ voice rumbled, “I would tell you to walk over to that table, then I would tell you to bend over it. Then I would spank you.” Having said the words, Giles knew it was up to Willow now. She would either assent or not.

“What happens if I don’t want to do that?” Willow’s familiar fear of getting in trouble was bubbling up now, mixed with fear of disappointing Giles. She had almost said, “Will you be mad if I don’t?” but she stopped herself.

Giles moved his hand to cradle Willow’s face fondly. “You can just tell me ‘no’, and I’ll take you home, and we don’t have to talk about it anymore. I will still help you practice your magic, if you want, and of course I will still be your friend.” He had almost said, “If you can still stand to look at me after this,” but he stopped himself.

Willow felt comforted by his words, but she still felt as though this decision, this single choice she was making right now, was a turning point in her life. She cared so deeply for Giles and she felt sick at the possibility of harming their friendship. At the same time, she found herself incredibly curious. The scientist in her wanted to try it to see if Giles’ hypothesis was correct.

Without a word, Willow exhaled shakily and walked over to the table Giles had indicated. Looking down at its surface, Willow traced along the wood grain with her fingertip. Giles came to stand directly behind her.

“Willow, I need you to tell me that this is what you want to do. It needs to be very clear.” Giles resisted the urge to reach out to her, stroke her hair, squeeze her waist, cup her breasts. He willed his hands to remain still.

Willow stared at the table in front of her, the battle continuing to rage in her mind. Mentally, she put her foot down. She was going to try it. She was tired of being scared.

“Giles, I would like to be punished.” Remembering her manners, she added, “Please.”

Giles felt as though his heart were going to beat out of his chest. He managed a soft, “Okay,” and placed a tender hand on Willow’s unbruised shoulder. Just as he had done a dozen times with Willow throughout her recovery, Giles breathed in and out slowly to remind Willow to do the same. She joined him, and together they completed the breathing exercise. Both felt clearer and calmer, despite the hum of excitement still buzzing between them.

“Place your feet half a meter apart. Bend forward and place your elbows on the table. Keep your legs straight. If at any point you wish me to stop, say the word ‘stop’.”

Willow did as she was told. She continued to breathe, hoping it would help her stay calm.

Giles reached out a shaking hand and paused. He needed to calm himself. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Opening his eyes, he could see his hand was steadier now. He grabbed the hem of Willow’s skirt and hitched it up over her hips, revealing simple cotton underwear underneath.

Willow inhaled audibly and moved just a fraction of an inch before she stopped herself. She balled her hands up into fists and squeezed, trying to control her fear.

Giles gave Willow a moment to steady herself, a moment that he needed himself. Then, holding his breath, he delivered a blow to Willow’s backside. She let out a tiny noise of surprise but didn’t move. Giles’ excitement threatened to overwhelm him, but he tamped it down and hit her again.

Willow pressed her lips together, trying to keep quiet. She had never been spanked before, not even when she was little, and the sensation was new and strange. The physical feeling, however, was secondary to the fact that Giles was the one administering it. Although they hadn’t kissed or removed any clothing, this scene was unmistakably sexual. Willow had been dreaming of this for years, but she had neither expected it to happen in real life nor anticipated that it would take this form.

Giles struck her again, harder this time, and she let out an involuntary grunt. _That sound, too_ , she thought, _was unmistakably sexual_. She could tell she was becoming aroused in spite of herself and wondered if Giles felt the same way. He let his hand fall again, then again, the blows coming in quicker succession. No single strike was particularly painful, but their cumulative effect was making Willow’s ass sting uncomfortably.

When she realized that it was truly starting to hurt, she considered telling Giles to stop, but as soon as the thought occurred to her, a much louder voice inside her head nixed the idea. She didn’t really want him to stop. She was no longer in control of the sounds she was making, and with each smack, she emitted a staccato moan. Her breathing was becoming irregular, her chest heaving.

Giles could see the skin on Willow’s ass turning a darker and darker pink as he continued. He wanted to see her bare ass. He stopped striking her. The only sound was their ragged breathing.

“Willow, I want you to reach back and pull your underwear down.”

Before she could stop herself, Willow asked shakily, “What?”

“You heard me.”

Willow’s eyes were wide, scanning side to side in sudden panic. Her body was frozen. She held her breath.

Giles’ voice came to her, still very soft and calm, but with an edge to it this time. “I do not like to repeat myself.”

Without giving a thought to what she was doing, Willow stood up, turned, and rushed past Giles. Tears began streaking down her face. Giles called her name but she didn’t turn around. She pushed open the back door and practically ran away from the shop.

Once she had gotten a few blocks away, Willow burst into tears in earnest. She collapsed onto a park bench, wincing at the pain of sitting. She couldn’t even identify what exactly was making her so upset. It’s not that she was disinterested in Giles in that way. It wasn’t even that she disliked the sensation of being spanked. She just felt overwhelmed. She panicked. She needed to leave.

Realizing that it probably wasn’t smart to be out alone at night with a crazy necromancer demon running around, Willow stood up and started across the street. She felt a keen twinge of embarrassment at how hot her bottom felt and how it was already starting to feel sore as she walked home.

By the time she achieved the porch at the house, she had calmed down a little and at least wasn’t crying anymore. She wiped her face to make sure she was presentable, then entered the house. Dawn’s voice called groggily from the couch, “Buffy?”

“No, Dawnie, it’s just me,” Willow replied. “Buffy should be home soon, though. Why aren’t you in bed? Don’t you have to be up for school tomorrow?”

Willow heard the TV turn off and Dawn clomped into the front hall, draped in a blanket, her eyes barely open. “Fell asleep watching TV. Bed now.” Dawn plodded up the stairs, and in a moment, was in her own bedroom.

Willow breathed a sigh of relief at being alone, making herself a cup of tea before retreating into her bedroom to mull over what had happened.

\------------------

“Willow!” Giles called after the witch as she fled out the back door of the Magic Box. He took a few steps in pursuit of her, then stalked back, thinking better of it. After a moment, he started walking towards the door again, but again he changed course.

Leaning with his palms on the table on which Willow had been perched, he was rocked by a surge of disgust at himself and his actions. He shoved the table with all his might, sending it toppling into a weapons cabinet, shattering the glass doors.

“Giles, you’re a bloody idiot!” he shouted at himself. He paced the room like a caged animal, so furious with himself that he could hardly think straight. All he could see was the look on Willow’s face as she turned and ran away. Rage coursed through him. At that moment, he could have taken just about anyone in a fight, maybe even the Slayer.

He caught a glimpse of the clock and realized that it was getting late and Willow was walking home alone. She might not be safe. His rage blinked out of existence as he thought about Willow being in danger. Without hesitation, Giles grabbed his keys from his desk and prepared to go after her. The sight of Willow’s bag and coat caught his eye. She hadn’t grabbed them on her way out, obviously. He picked them up and locked up the shop as he left.

It only took Giles a minute or two to catch up with Willow, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. _I’ll just stay close so that if anything should happen, I can look out for her._ He kept his car at a distance, making sure he didn’t attract her attention. Finally, she arrived home and went inside. Giles parked his car across from the house and breathed a sigh of relief.

He let his head fall forward and hid his face in his hands. He was certain, absolutely certain, that he had completely ruined his friendship with Willow. He had crossed a boundary by such a significant margin that he couldn’t even see the line anymore. And he might have done real damage to her recovery. He could tell himself all he wanted that he was trying to help her, testing a theory, giving her what she needed, but those were excuses crafted by the most selfish and deviant parts of his brain. He felt physically ill.

He looked up at Willow’s room and saw that her light was still on. He imagined she might not be very sleepy. He sighed pensively. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy returning home. She looked to be in a foul mood and he hardly wanted to have to explain to her why he was sitting in his car outside her house in the middle of the night. He slunk down in the seat and hoped for the best. Fortunately, Buffy went straight in the house without even glancing his way.

After the hall light turned off, Giles grabbed Willow’s things and brought them up to the porch. He neatly arranged them near the front door so that they would be easily discovered in the morning. When he got back in his car, he cast one last glance up at Willow’s bedroom window, the light still shining, then started the car and drove away.


	7. The Flick of That Wrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the unexpected events of the previous night, Willow and Giles must both come to grips with the consequences of their choices.

Willow tossed and turned for hours that night. Finally, as the sun’s first light started creeping into her bedroom, she gave up on trying to get any rest. As soon as she resigned herself to wakefulness, she tumbled into sleep.

Shortly before noon, Willow sluggishly stirred out of a deep sleep. Her back and shoulders were still aching from Saturday’s failed spell, and now her butt was raw. Her sheets felt like sandpaper against her rear, still tinged pink from last night’s spanking.

As she shuffled into the bathroom, Willow caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was plastered against one side of her head and sticking up oddly in the back. She looked like she had been asleep for six months, not six hours. She turned on the shower and let the water run until it was almost scalding hot. Gingerly stepping out of her clothes, she got under the water, not minding the heat. It felt good to burn.

\-----------------------

Giles opened a single bleary eye and looked at the clock. Already coming up on noon. Shit.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he punched in a series of numbers.

“Hello, Giles.”

“Anya. Hello.”

“If you’re calling to ask me to work today, the answer is no.”

“Anya, I could really use your help. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. I’m not feeling well.”

“Then I suppose you could just not open the shop today. Business is always terrible on Mondays anyway. If you had read my financial report, you would know that.”

“Please.”

“Sorry, Giles, but I can’t. I’ve been neglecting my vengeance duties and I’m already on probation with D’Hoffryn. If I skip out on my demon work to stand around in an empty store, I’ll be shunned.”

“Alright, alright. I understand. Good luck with your vengeance.”

Anya’s voice brightened as she took the well wishes to heart. “Thank you, Giles! Good luck with your illness.” With that, she hung up.

Giles laid back on the bed and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. His head was pounding. The mostly-empty bottle of scotch on the nightstand stood as a testament to how he had spent the wee hours of the morning. The numbing effects of the alcohol had long since worn off, and now he was left with a splitting headache, an overwhelming weariness, and the same guilt that had led him to get shitfaced in the first place.

After a few minutes of wrestling with his desire to stay in bed versus his responsibility to go open the store, he chose the latter. _Last night, you acted on impulse instead of doing the right thing,_ he thought to himself. _Today, you can bloody well make better choices_. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and skulked to the bathroom.

\-------------------

After a very, very long shower, Willow went back into her room. Her phone’s notification light was blinking; she had a text from Dawn.

> Hey Willow, are you going to be at the Magic Box later?

Willow sighed and stared at her phone for a minute, thinking about how to reply.

> I’m pretty busy today, so probably not

Dawn, who clearly wasn’t following her school’s cell phone policy, shot back a text immediately.

> I need you!!!!! I have a geometry test tomorrow and I don’t understand all this stuff about angles. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

> Why don’t you just come back to the house? I can help you with your math here

> If I stay at the shop past six, Giles feels bad for me and buys me dinner

Willow smiled. Dawn, the cunning master of manipulation. Willow put down the phone and started getting dressed, buying her a little time to think. If she went to the shop, Giles would most certainly be there, and then she’d have to figure out how to face him. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever, but why not just one day? One day to figure out her feelings wasn’t that crazy, right?

She picked up her phone again and, after a moment’s hesitation, send Dawn a reply.

> We’ll see, Dawnie

Dawn’s reply consisted entirely of crying emojis, which made Willow chuckle a little in spite of herself. Regardless of what Willow decided to do that afternoon, she still had some hours to kill. Her feelings were a jumbled mess and she was no closer to understanding what had happened last night, so she decided to embark on the time-honored tradition of doing chores to ignore the real world.

Three hours later, the laundry was done, the dishes were drying in the rack, the floors were swept, and she had even cleaned the inside of the refrigerator. Willow always felt better after a good cleaning binge, and even though she was no closer to getting a handle on her feelings, she still somehow managed to improve her mood. She had even managed to work some of the soreness out of her shoulders, which only ached a little now.

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and read a new message from Dawn.

> Heading over to the shop now. You’re going to be there, right??

Willow shrugged her shoulders and typed:

> OK

Dawn once again replied in all emojis, these ones far more jovial. Willow had a hard time resisting the pleas of Buffy’s little sister, especially in a math crisis. She changed out of her dusty house-cleaning outfit and threw on some clean clothes, careful to select decidedly-unflattering pants instead of a cute skirt. She set her mouth into a grim line and headed out to the Magic Box.

\-----------------------

Giles stood behind the counter of his shop, leaning on the glass with one elbow, his fingers rubbing his brow. His expression was one of exhaustion and dull pain. He had given up on trying to appear professional and chipper, despite the fact that there were a few customers milling about. He heard the bell ring as the door opened again and winced slightly at the sound. His eyes slid over in that direction, then opened fully as he saw Willow enter the store.

Forgetting his hangover, Giles immediately stood up straight and tried to wear the most neutral face he could. He stared at Willow, hoping to catch her eyes. Although there were customers present, he hoped he could talk to her quietly out of earshot of anyone else.

Willow knew that Giles’ eyes were on her from the second she entered the shop. During her journey from the house, Willow had been imagining all the things she might say to Giles, but she was completely stumped. She didn’t know whether to slap him or apologize to him or kiss him or ignore him. Each option had its merits. In the absence of a clear winner, she decided to buy more time by avoiding him for now.

She walked straight to a chair near the front of the shop, not too close to Giles and definitely not too close to the training room. She sat facing away from Giles and pulled out a book.

Giles was stuck helping a customer at the register, but as soon as the transaction had ended, he slipped from behind the counter and headed over towards the witch.

“Willow,” he began, his voice packed with emotion.

Just then, the bell jingled and Dawn burst into the store.

“Willow, you have GOT to help me. This geometry stuff is impossible. What the heck is a complementary angle?”

Giles cursed in his head, but managed a strained smile at Dawn, who hardly had even noticed he was there. He walked back to the counter and resumed his entirely ineffective forehead massage.

Willow, for her part, had never been happier to have Dawn interrupt something before. They set up shop at the meeting table and got to work. Her gratitude oozed into their math lesson, and soon Dawn was working through the practice problems with a much improved understanding. The pair worked for over an hour on angles, lines, perimeters, and areas.

As afternoon slid into evening, the shop phone rang and Giles answered.

“Magic Box. Oh, hello Buffy. Yes, she’s here. Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll tell her.”

Giles paused, listening.

“Oh, well I’m sure Willow’s more than capable –

No, well, that’s fine, I could do that on my –

I suppose but I really rather think that –

I am not ‘being British’ about this.”

Giles sighed as he received a lengthy admonishment over the phone.

“Alright. I said alright, Buffy. She and I will get right on it. Good luck.”

Giles hung up the phone, then removed his glasses and began to clean them vigorously. The only customer in the shop cleared out as Dawn bopped over to the counter. “What’s up?”

Giles replied, “That was your sister. She says you are to go home, where Xander will be there for the evening.”

Giles resettled his glasses on his face and looked over at the clock. “Have you eaten?”

Dawn shot a furtive grin over towards Willow and allowed Giles to talk her into grabbing burritos on the way home for her and Xander. He handed her some cash and sent her on her way.

Willow stood up to hug Dawn goodbye, watching her exit the shop. She was still facing the door when Giles walked up behind her. “Willow.” His voice was soft but intense.

Willow turned around rapidly, her hands instinctively moving to cover her backside. After a second, she made herself put her hands back by her sides. _Very smooth, Rosenberg_ , she scolded herself. _This is already going so well. _Willow’s cheeks reddened. Feeling the heat come into her face, she became even more self-conscious and started growing angry with herself for overreacting and embarrassing herself. Tears began to swim in her eyes.

Giles looked away, ashamed for making Willow upset already and wanting to allow Willow a moment to collect herself.

“Buffy asked us to work on researching this necromancer demon some more tonight while she’s on patrol,” he told her. “She wants to postpone our cemetery recon plan until she has more information on how to defeat him. She got a bit of background from that jittery bartender, which should give us somewhere to start.”

Giles swallowed, then looked back to Willow, meeting her eyes. “I tried to tell her that just one of us would be more than capable of completing the research task, but she firmly insisted that we work together.” He paused. “She said we make a good team.”

Both Willow and Giles read into the unintended subtext of that comment but said nothing. Willow gave a curt nod, more to herself than to Giles, then brushed past Giles to gather the books they’d likely need to reference.

Giles stood rooted to the spot, wondering how he was going to be able to work with Willow tonight, much less continue to be friends and allies. He decided to begin with a peace offering.

“Chinese or Italian?”

Willow was relieved that Giles mentioned dinner. She’d barely eaten all day, and doing research on an empty stomach was always a terrible idea. She also recognized that Giles was reaching out to her in his reserved way. She smiled.

“Chinese sounds amazing.”

Giles beamed – at least, as much as he ever did. He grabbed his keys. “Back in fifteen. Extra duck sauce?”

“You bet,” Willow agreed gamely.

With the store to herself and her anxiety easing up a tad, Willow had an idea. She grabbed a deck of tarot cards from a nearby display and placed them loose on the table in front of her. She closed her eyes and practiced her breathing, then opened her eyes again and focused on the cards.

Gingerly, she reached forward with her right hand, willing the top few cards to move. To her delight, they flew through the air readily, obeying her commands without difficulty. Holding a few cards in place, Willow reached out with her left hand and drew the next several cards off the top of the deck. Keeping her breathing even, she willed the cards to arrange themselves into a structure, building a house of cards several storeys high. The ease with which the cards glided through the air and rested on the structure stunned her, but she tried not to let her surprise ruin her concentration. Her fingers plucked and wiggled in the air as if she were conducting a delicate symphony. In only a few minutes, she completed the tower, the 78 cards forming a four-foot-high structure.

She excitedly clapped her hands. This was the only time in months that she had been successful in getting a bit of magic right on the first try. She glanced around the shop to see what else she could try. Next to the front door, a large candle on display seemed like a fitting next test. Willow smirked, then cleared her expression and did her breathing exercises again. Feeling her confidence building, she reached out with both hands and willed the candle to move. It was enormous, probably ten pounds of wax, but it glided off the table and floated out in front of the door to the shop.

Willow played with the candle, twirling it and making it dance in the air. Suddenly, the door opened and Giles came back in with food in tow. Willow let out a small “eep!” and, in that moment, her concentration was broken long enough to drop the candle. Giles, his reflexes thankfully still sharp, caught the candle in front of him one-handed and carefully replaced it on the display table.

“Sorry, Giles! I wasn’t going to break it, honest. I just was feeling really good about my magic and I wanted to see if I could do it.”

 

Giles brought the bag of food over to the counter, the delightful scent of MSG wafting along with it. He then clicked on the electric kettle to make them some tea with dinner. As soon as his hands were free, he removed his glasses and cleaned them with gusto. “It’s quite alright, Willow. I’m glad that you’re practicing. Though perhaps I’d prefer you chose something other than an $80 Andean prayer candle.” Giles resettled his glasses back on his face, then cocked his head in surprise when he saw the house of cards on the table. “Did you do that? With magic?”

Willow wasn’t sure whether to display pride or humility, so she settled for a neutral response. “I did.”

Giles slowly circumnavigated the table, assessing the structure. Temporarily forgetting the tension between him and Willow, Giles wore an expression of awe on his face, stunned that Willow had gone from barely lifting a single match to constructing this tower in just a one-day period.

Willow found Giles’ astonishment endearing. She still had no idea how to feel about last night, but Giles looked pretty darn cute right now. She smiled affectionately, then turned to retrieve dinner from the bag Giles had obtained. Grabbing a paper plate from the bag, she rifled through the various containers.

“Willow,” Giles called, “I suspect we might need this table for dinner. Do you think you could see fit to deconstruct the eighth world wonder?”

Fully involved in the acquisition of egg rolls, Willow flicked her hand back towards the table and willed the cards back into a single stack. The house became a deck, then slid back into its box.

Giles took off his glasses again, a gesture of wonder rather than irritation. Willow turned around with her plate of food, then caught Giles’ expression. “What?”

Giles was too stunned to speak for a moment. Then, incredulous, he asked, “Don’t you think it’s remarkable how far you’ve come in just the last day?”

Willow’s eyebrows arched as she realized how little effort she had put into something that had seemed impossible just the day before. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she was pleased. Bemused, she looked at Giles and gave him a mirthful shrug, then sat down at the table and began to dig in. Hunger came before serious magic talk.

Giles shook his head as if to clear it, then assembled his own plate of food and poured them both cups of tea. He brought everything over to the table and sat down across from the witch. They pair ate in silence, though not an uncomfortable one. Each was absorbed in their own thoughts. Both wondered about the possible connection between last night’s events and Willow’s drastically improved control of magic today. Giles dared not hope that there was a causative link.

Willow realized that she was going to have to say something, otherwise this research session would be both awkward and unproductive. “Thanks for bringing over my stuff,” she offered, startling the ex-librarian out of his reverie. Giles nodded but said nothing. Willow pushed on. “Since last night, all I’ve wanted to do was talk through what happened and figure out how I feel about it.”

She paused, and Giles nodded to encourage her to continue.

“But the problem is that the person I would want to talk to is you.”

Giles smiled benevolently. He could understand her problem.

“I’m definitely not going to talk to Buffy or Xander about this, and I haven’t had my first appointment with my new stateside therapist, so you’re it.”

“Willow,” Giles replied, “I know that I’m hardly a neutral party, but you can still talk to me. I hope you will. I feel awful about how things ended last night. We’ll have to talk through it if we’re to remain friends.”

“Well, first,” Willow started, “I want you to know that last night really freaked me out. I mean, it’s not every day that your former librarian says he wants to hit you to make you feel better.”

Giles winced slightly, more about being referred to as Willow’s “former librarian” than anything else. In that moment, he felt so distant from her. With an effort, he smoothed out his expression and said, “Yes, I can imagine that was…unexpected.”

Willow continued, “And then there was the thing where you wanted me to…when you ordered me to…” Willow swallowed. “That was a lot to process.”

More than anything else, Giles wanted to reach across the table and take Willow’s hand, but he knew he shouldn’t. He took a breath, then said, “I’m sorry. Truly, Willow.”

“Hey, this is me sharing my feelings time, not you apologizing time,” Willow chided Giles. “Though we can definitely schedule that for later,” she added, a hint of a threat in her voice.

Giles held up his hands to show his surrender, a hint of a smile on his face. “My apologies, Miss Rosenberg. Please continue.”

“Thank you,” Willow replied, trying to seem stern. She took a moment to determine where she had left off. “So, first I was freaked out at your suggestion, and then I got super freaked out when you…took it further. And that was like…way further. But the hardest part has been figuring out how I feel about it now. Because I don’t think I hated it. I don’t even think I disliked it. So now I have to work out if I actually liked it, and I don’t know if I want to like it.” Willow took a moment to collect herself after her breathless speech.

Giles did his best to keep a neutral expression on his face, but inside, his mind was racing. He kept waiting for Willow to get to the part where she hated him, where she was disgusted, where she couldn’t be around him anymore. But she wasn’t saying any of those things.

“And the craziest part,” Willow continued, agitation creeping into her voice, “is that it might have actually worked! You saw what I could do just now. What if I can do magic with more control after you…if we…when that happens?”

Giles wasn’t sure if this question was rhetorical. He kept his eyes on her, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. She looked like she was waiting for him.

“I don’t know, Willow,” Giles quietly replied. “Whatever happens now will be entirely at your behest.”

“Well I don’t know what my behest is!” Willow cried.

“You don’t have to know, Willow.”

She sunk into her seat, looking dejected.

Giles hoped a change of subject could take Willow’s mind off of their troubles. “Did I tell you that Buffy thinks she has a name to match our necromancer friend?”

Willow arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

And just like that, their painful debrief was over and their research session had begun.


	8. Nine's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles and Willow put the new training regimen to the test when some uninvited customers arrive at The Magic Box. The pair must face the depth of their feelings for one another.

Two hours and three paper cuts later, Willow and her brain were mush. She and Giles had actually managed to learn a fair amount about the necromancer demon – apparently called a Gaarvoth demon, if Buffy’s source was to be believed – and were one step closer to stopping the demon’s reign of terror in Sunnydale. According to one ancient illustration, the Gaarvoth looked like a cross between a man and an ox, which was much creeper than it sounded.

Giles sat behind a pile of yellowed, crumbling texts, holding the temple of his glasses pinched between his fingers as he pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes. He knew that he and Willow weren’t going to be useful in discovering any further information that night, but he always felt a little guilty halting his research, especially if he knew Buffy was still out patrolling. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but he was already exhausted, and he could tell that Willow was, too.

A thumping at the front door of the shop shook them both out of their sluggish inattention. The tension in their shoulders suggested that they were not fans of things that went bump in the night. Giles called, hopeful, “We’re closed.”

The pair waited, eyes trained on the door. There was no sound, no movement.

Willow exhaled, smiling. “Boy, that was creepy. For a second, I was sure –“

The sound of shattering glass cut her off mid-sentence as the front display window was smashed to a thousand pieces. Suddenly, they were researching al fresco.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched out across the shop. Then the sound of shuffling feet on broken glass signaled the arrival of a guest. A recently-deceased resident of Sunnydale climbed through the ex-window and shambled into the room.

“Oh, good,” Giles declared. “Zombie.” Even in times of crisis, Giles never wavered in his sarcasm. “Willow,” he called, “protection spell? Barrier? Anything more powerful than a house of cards would do.”

Willow stood, planted her feet, and squared her shoulders. As much to herself as to Giles, she replied, “Okay.”

Lifting her palms in front of her and reciting the Latin by heart, Willow erected a barrier between them and the zombie. Although it did not come as easily to her as the simple levitations she achieved earlier, she was pleasantly surprised by her success. As she held the barrier, Giles retrieved a mace from the training room, returning to wield it against anything that made it past Willow’s spell.

The lone zombie was joined by another, and another, and finally a fourth. The strain on Willow was evident; sweat stood out on her forehead and her whole body was tensed as though she were trying to lift a thousand pounds over her head. Realizing they were outnumbered, Giles shouted, “To the back room! Willow, quickly!”

The pair retreated to the relative safety of the training room, which at least had a door that locked. Willow’s barrier spell held for another moment, but soon the zombies were past it, clawing on the door. Giles ran to the rear exit of the building, but upon opening the door, he was faced with another three undead adherents of the Gaarvoth demon. “Damn!” he cursed, slamming and bolting the door.

“Giles, what are we going to do? Those are the only two ways out, and I don’t like our chances with either one.” Willow’s eyes darted from one entrance to the other, now both completely barricaded by zombies on the other side. The doors would not hold forever.

“Give me a moment to think, Willow,” Giles spat, more than a little unhappy with the amount of frustration he let show.

They were surrounded by weapons, but although Giles was a moderately skilled hand-to-hand fighter, Willow had zero physical combat skills, and there were too many zombies for Giles to take alone. They were trapped.

“Giles.” Willow turned to the Watcher and looked him in the eyes. “You have to do something to me. Like last night. You saw how much easier levitation was for me after you hit me. I don’t have the control right now to get us out of this, but if you help me, I might be able to tap into that power. I need your help.”

Shaking his head, Giles replied, “No, Willow, I don’t want to do that to you again. I can’t. I never should have pushed you to do that last night, and I won’t do it again.”

Willow, knowing that time was a factor, grabbed Giles by his heavily-starched lapels. “Dammit, Giles, we don’t have time for you to be sensitive remorse guy. We can talk about the questionable implications later, but right now I need you to help me control my power. Can you do that or not?”

The fire in Willow’s eyes awoke something in Giles, something that was very willing to oblige the witch. Speaking softly, Giles replied, “Alright.”

“Go stand next to the punching bag,” he ordered. Willow complied, grateful that Giles was going along with her possibly-insane plan. She had no idea if this would actually work, but until another solution presented itself, this was all she could think to do.

Giles approached Willow’s position and continued directing her, his voice barely above a whisper, the hushed tones belying the forcefulness and intensity of his commands.

“Raise your hands above your head. Clasp your right wrist with your left hand.”

Willow did as she was told.

“As I told you yesterday, the same rule applies. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

With an edge of impatience in her voice, Willow answered, “yes.”

“I am going to remove your pants.” Giles paused, giving Willow an opportunity to refuse. She did not.

Although Willow was deeply unsure about what would happen next, she knew that she had forced Giles’ hand. Giles reached forward and undid the button on Willow’s jeans. He slid them off of her legs with extreme care. He also removed her shoes, leaving her feet bare.

“Turn around and face the punching bag. With your free hand, hold the top of the stand.”

Willow turned but found the top to be out of her grasp. “I can’t reach it.”

“Get on tip-toe.”

Flexing and reaching, Willow gripped the top of the stand, although just barely.

“Do not let go. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Willow replied, the strain of the position reflected in her voice.

Within seconds, her calves began to burn with the effort of staying on her toes. She did not have enough of a grip with her hands to transfer any of her weight to the stand. The position was incredibly difficult to maintain.

Willow could no longer see Giles, but she heard something rustling behind her. She wanted to turn to look, but she knew that twisting at all would make her lose her grip on the punching bag stand.

Giles, refusing to allow himself to hesitate in such a dangerous situation, let out one deep breath before unbuckling his belt and sliding it from the loops on his slacks. With a mixture of warning and pity in his voice, he told Willow, “This is going to hurt.”

For a split second, Willow forgot herself and turned around to see what Giles was going to do. In so doing, she lost her grip on the stand and let her feet go flat to the floor. Giles’ look of cold disappointment cut her like a knife. She hurriedly turned away again, went back on tip-toe, and grasped the stand with her fingertips. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“No,” Giles replied calmly. “You’re not. But you will be.”

Willow experienced a moment of panic not unlike the one she felt the day before, the panic that made her flee the shop. She swallowed and closed her eyes. _You will stay put this time,_ she told herself.

Giles gripped his belt in his hands, holding the two ends in his hand to form a large loop. He let the first stroke fall across the backs of Willow’s thighs.

Willow gasped in undisguised pain. She wasn’t sure whether the belt hurt much more than Giles’ hand or if he was just hitting her harder, but this was genuinely painful. Giles had not been kidding when he warned her that it would hurt.

Giles struck her again across her ass, then once more. Involuntary gasps burst from her as tears sprung to her eyes. If it had been the night before, she would have demanded that Giles stop after the first blow, but last night there hadn’t been zombies at the door.

The issue of the zombies brought Willow’s thoughts into focus. As Giles continued to strike her, Willow did her best to channel her pain into energy that she could utilize. Perhaps she could use her rediscovered levitation skills to take care of their zombie problem. She kept her eyes closed and tried to calm her mind, to let her power build.

Giles continued to let the blows fall, casting bright red welts across Willow’s rear and thighs. If he struck her any harder, he risked drawing blood. He was doing his best to be careful, methodical. He tried to ignore how much this aroused him. This was about saving them, not about his own pleasure.

“Giles,” Willow said suddenly, the calm in her voice disconcerting.

Giles let his arms fall to his side. “Yes, Willow?” The Watcher’s breath was ragged with both effort and excitement.

“Open the door.”

“Are you—?”

“Open the door.”

Giles stepped away from Willow, not remotely sure of what was about to happen, and not a little frightened of the power that bubbled beneath her words. Grabbing an axe, he approached the door that served as a rear exit to the shop. Last he knew, three zombies were outside, although that number could be greater now. If Willow failed to dispatch the zombies, at least they might be able to get out onto the street somehow.

“Okay, I’m opening the door.” Giles yanked on the doorknob and took three large steps back.

Across the room, a quiver full of arrows floated over next to Willow. Three arrows unsheathed themselves and flew towards the zombies. A moment later, a series of thumps indicated that the zombies were toast. Giles barely had time to register what was happening before they were dead. Or, well…dead- _er_.

“Open the other door.” Willow was no longer taking commands. Her eyes were still closed.

Giles did as instructed, again taking several giant steps back from the incoming undead horde. More arrows flew, each one finding its home in the eye socket of a zombie. The bodies fell to the floor, creating a pile that would make it difficult to get back into the main room of the shop. After the last corpse fell, Willow and Giles were silent until it was clear that the threat had been neutralized.

Willow’s shoulders sagged slightly and she grunted softly. Giles turned to her and saw that she was still on tip-toe, grasping the metal of the frame. Her legs were shaking under the strain. He went over to her and placed his hand on her back.

“Let go, Willow,” he urged her. She did, and in that moment, her legs gave way. Giles caught her, deftly picking her up as a groom carries a bride. Slowly, he carried her over to the table and sat her on its edge. She winced at the sensation of her bottom against the surface, but standing wasn’t much of an option either.

Giles brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and moved his apprehensive face directly in front of hers, examining her. “Are you alright?”

Willow said nothing. She breathed in for a five count, then out. Giles, concerned and looking for a way to help, turned to go get her some water. She reached out and grabbed Giles’ sleeve, clutching the material in her twisted fingers. Looking up to meet his eyes, she remained silent but managed to communicate loud and clear: _Don’t leave_.

Giles’ frenzied expression softened, and he sat next to her on the table. He placed an arm around her and held her fondly. His affection for her, his attraction to her, his need for her were all threatening to overwhelm him. He understood now the futility of trying to pretend that they could go back to how things were before. After a moment, he began to speak.

“Willow, I’m going to be completely honest with you. It frightens me to do so, but it’s nothing more than you deserve. I don’t want to continue to keep things from you. I imagine you might not be happy to hear what I’m about to tell you, but you have the right to know.” He looked down into her face, but her eyes betrayed nothing.

He continued, “I’ve always had immense respect and affection for you, ever since I’ve known you. You were a bright and curious student, outrageously optimistic and always thinking on your feet. I grew to care for you and felt a strong desire to protect you, which hasn’t always been an easy thing to do. After you moved on to college and began honing your skills in witchcraft, I worried about you and continued to look after you.” Willow was resting against his side, just as she had on the plane, just as she had in her bed two nights earlier. He knew what he was about to say would cause her to pull away from him, physically and emotionally. Closing his eyes, he took a second to cherish the odd peace of the moment.

With great effort, he forged on. “But I also felt my feelings towards you begin to shift. I pretended for ages that I was simply being over-protective, that the envy I felt around Oz or around Tara was a paternalistic urge. I told myself that I cared for you like a…” Giles wavered, then continued, “…like an ex-librarian, nothing more. Now, with the advantage of hindsight, I realize that I loved you even then, but I couldn’t see it.”

The words came spilling out now, either from a lack of control or a fear of what Willow would say once he stopped talking. “When I came here to confront you last spring, here in this very shop…that was the worst day of my life. I’ve told you before that I would have gladly given my life to make everything right for you again, so you could have Tara again. That was true. What I never told you was that I would have taken others’ lives, too, if it had meant you could be happy.”

Giles’ voice rose in pitch, anxiety creeping in more and more with each sentence. “It was irrational and completely immoral, but I would have killed Warren and Jonathan and that other boy; I would have killed just about anyone. That day, I wasn’t interested in saving the world. I wanted to save you. Only you.” Finally, he paused. He wondered if this sounded as awful and overwrought and ridiculous aloud as it did inside his head.

“I know,” he continued, “I know that it makes me a terrible person, but I’ve known that about myself for a long time. You know some of the things I’ve done. Summoning Eyghon, letting my friends get killed. But the worst I’ve ever felt, the most ashamed and horrified I’ve ever been at myself, was last night, seeing the look on your face as you ran from me.”

Straightening his spine, Giles tried to affect a business-like air, but it wasn’t working. “Although it was true,” he went on, “that I wanted to support you in your recovery and I thought what I did might be able to help, the reality is that my actions were selfish. I said and did things because I wanted to. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.” His voice cracked with emotion, and he paused for a moment.

Giles cleared his throat and continued. “I know that last night I irrevocably damaged our friendship, and perhaps did even more harm tonight. My words now are probably only serving to put the nail in the coffin, so to speak. I preyed on the remnants of your girlhood crush on me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that, so I certainly don’t expect you to. I just want you to understand, to know. I love you, Willow Rosenberg, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, before Willow exhaled.

“Giles, shut up.” Willow’s words had the desired effect, stunning the Watcher into silence. She remained tight against Giles’ side as she spoke. “You’re painting me as some kind of victim, as if things happen to me but I don’t have any role in what’s going on. You talk like I didn’t walk over to that table, like I didn’t ask for what you did in no uncertain terms. As if I didn’t beg you to do it again tonight. I may be young, but I’m not a kid anymore, Giles. I make my own choices. Some of them – a lot of them – are bad, but they’re my mistakes to make. If this was a mistake, too, it was our mistake together. You keep talking about yourself like you’re some kind of predator, but you didn’t force me to do anything. Stop trying to fall on your sword.” Willow wiped a tear from her cheek, feeling her vulnerability shift into agitation and frustration. She was angrier with herself than with Giles, but he was going to bear the brunt of her vexation.

“You’re right,” she continued, “I had a crush on you when I was at Sunnydale High. I mean, it was practically cheating that you were the librarian, but I didn’t just like you because you were surrounded by books. I loved that you were serious, unlike guys my age. Everything was always a joke to everyone else in school. I got laughed at a lot. But you always took me seriously, and I loved you for it. Sometimes, that library was the only place where I felt like I could be myself, and you did that for me.” For a moment, adoration crept into her voice and Giles could almost feel the warmth and tenderness radiating out from her.

“Willow,” Giles began, but she raised her voice slightly and kept going. She had been saving these words for too long to be interrupted now. “You talk about your feelings changing for me after I went to college,” she said, “but my feelings for you never did. I kept waiting to grow out of my crush, to forget about it, but that never happened. My feelings for you would get pushed to the side or covered up when I was with Oz or Tara, but they were still there.

“In England, while I tried to work through my guilt and anger about what I had done, it took me weeks before I could even talk about how close I had come to killing you. Doctor Lane almost had to sedate me the first time I described what had happened,” she confessed. Then, much quieter, she added, “I still have nightmares. I see myself hurting you. I see it all the time.” She grimaced, images from her terrifying dreams floating up into her conscious mind.

“On top of all of that,” she resumed, her voice gaining volume and intensity, “I’ve had to work through the shame I feel that I’m just as upset about hurting you as I am about Tara getting killed right in front of me. Isn’t that messed up?” She gently pulled away from Giles, sitting up and staring down at her legs. She still didn’t have any pants on, but right now that was the least of her concerns. She brought her hands up to her face, wiping her cheeks and sweeping her hands up to smooth back her hair. She exhaled loudly.

“You think you’re terrible because you smacked me on the ass a few times. Giles, what you did…you did it with affection and love, no matter how wrong you think it was. I have been far crueler to myself over the last two months than you could ever be. I have been slashing myself to pieces every single day.” She paused, her eyes swimming with furious tears. “I hate myself.” The last three words came out as a venomous whisper, the truth of the sentiment carved into the surface of her voice.

With a glib resignation, Willow concluded, “Loving you is the easy part. Believing that you might love me…that’s impossible.”

Gingerly, Willow got down off the table and walked over to retrieve her pants. Her exhaustion threatened to knock her right over. She had felt overwhelmed the night before, frantic with overstimulation. Tonight, she had gone through so much in just the past hour, she was practically numb. She just wanted to go home.

Giles sat in stunned silence for a moment. He could hardly believe what Willow had told him. Part of him was devastated by the matter-of-fact way that she described her self-loathing, while another part of him was positively ecstatic at the revelation that Willow had romantic feelings for him beyond a simple crush. Both reactions impelled him to be near her, to touch her.

Crossing the distance between them in just a few strides, Giles moved in front of Willow and took her face in his gentle hands. He whispered her name, a deep reservoir of longing beneath the single utterance. Then they were kissing, Willow’s hands moving to Giles’ face as he gathered her up in his arms. Pulling her to him, Giles could feel himself losing control. He wanted to strip her down, he wanted to make love to her right there.

With evident sorrow, Giles made himself pull back from the kiss. He didn’t want it to be like this. He had imagined being with Willow, he had envisioned what it would be like when they revealed their love for one another, and there definitely weren’t decomposing zombies blocking the exits. It should be special. This wasn’t good enough for her.

Willow, panting slightly, rested her face against Giles’ chest. “Now what do we do?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to clear the bodies so we can get out of the building,” he replied.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered.

“I know,” he sighed.

They stood together in the middle of the room, holding each other desperately, neither willing to be the first one to let go.


	9. What the Research Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeling from Giles' confession, Willow attends her first stateside therapy appointment and tries to work through her trauma.

Tuesday dawned on a confused and ambivalent witch. After Giles had dropped her off the night before, Willow had fallen into bed exhausted, but only managed to catch a few hours’ sleep before she awoke with a start. Although the night before had been a cavalcade of crazy, the thing that stood out to her was the sensation of Giles’ lips on hers, the softness of his hands on her face, the look in his eyes. Life had been complicated enough last week; now it was on the verge of untenable.

It was with both relief and dread that Willow realized she had her first appointment with her new therapist today. Doctor Gruden specialized in working with people who didn’t fit neatly inside the normal human realm. In fact, many of her clients weren’t people at all. Given how central Willow’s magic was to her trauma, it had been important for Doctor Lane to find her a therapist who could meet her needs fully. Although she knew that Doctor Gruden would have received Willow’s files from Doctor Lane, Willow also knew that she would spend at least the whole first session talking about her entire backstory. It would be exhausting, and she was already drained.

Willow’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Giles.

> Appointment today?

She smiled at the screen. _Giles is checking up on me_ , she thought. She began typing.

> Yup. In two hours.

> I’m already at the Magic Box cleaning up. If you want to talk after, I’m here.

Willow’s grin broadened. However conflicted she felt about Giles and their…whatever it was, she felt warm and safe right now.

> Will do

She pursed her lips, unsatisfied by how her message sounded.

> Thank you.

_Good enough_ , she thought, then trotted off to take a shower.

\---------------------

Sitting in the waiting room of Doctor Gruden’s Santa Barbara office, Willow could not stop fidgeting. First she was bouncing her leg, then she forced herself to stop. After she drummed on her knees, she moved on to picking at her fingernails, then back to bouncing her leg. Thankfully, she only had a wait a few minutes before Doctor Gruden welcomed Willow inside.

“Hi Willow, my name is Dana Gruden. It’s really great to meet you. Please come on in and have a seat.” The psychologist gestured to a pair of mismatched comfy-looking chairs across from her own large rolling office chair. Mid-forties and athletic, Doctor Gruden reminded Willow of that lady from the X-Men movies, the one who used to be married to John Stamos.

Willow selected the slightly less-worn chair and carefully perched on the edge of the cushion, her body language betraying her nervousness. “Thanks Doctor Gruden,” she began.

“Please call me Dana,” the woman replied, offering a genuine smile that invited one’s confidence.

Willow nodded agreeably. “Alright, thanks Dana. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“So, Doctor Lane said you were okay with me reading your file from England and he sent me his notes. How would you describe your time in Bath?”

Willow shrugged noncommittally. “It was fine, I guess. I learned a lot, and I talked through a lot of stuff. It was hard. I cried pretty much all the time.”

Dana smiled again and nodded, lifting her eyebrows as if to indicate that Willow was of course supposed to cry the entire time. “How would you characterize your experience of returning to Sunnydale? You’ve been back for a few days, right?”

“Yeah, since Friday,” Willow confirmed. “It’s been okay. Well, I thought I might not have any friends to come back to, so the fact that everyone is still talking to me is a big plus.”

“You didn’t think your friends would talk to you?”

“Well, I don’t know, I just thought that since I had kinda tried to kill them that they might not be super happy to see me.”

“That’s fair,” Dana replied. “What was it like to see them again?”

“I was scared at first. But Dawn, Buffy’s sister – Doctor Lane explained who Buffy was, right?” Willow asked. Dana nodded, and Willow continued, “So Dawn was so sweet and she was so happy to see me, and that made me feel a lot better. I still felt nervous when it came to seeing Buffy and Xander and even Anya again for the first time since I got back, but it’s been okay.”

Doctor Gruden took a few notes as Willow spoke, then looked up. “I can imagine how scary it must have been to have to wonder about your friends and their feelings towards you.”

Willow nodded but didn’t say anything. A beat passed.

Dana ran her fingers up into her loose blonde hair and scrubbed her scalp with her fingertips for a second, zhooshing her hair absent-mindedly as she spoke. “Now, one of the things I always ask my clients is what they hope to get out of talking to me, so I’m going to ask the same thing of you. What is your hope for these sessions? It could be something immediate or something long-term, it’s up to you.”

Willow knitted her brows and thought for a moment. “Can it be more than one thing?”

Dana nodded.

“Okay, it might be selfish, but…I want a lot of things. I want to be able to control my magic. I want to stop crying every time I get a little overwhelmed or upset.” She paused, took a breath, then concluded: “I want to stop being so afraid all the time.”

Doctor Gruden met Willow’s eyes and assured you, “If you want me to, I will help you.” After a moment, she shifted in her chair and asked, “What are you afraid of?”

Willow rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “God, so much. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt someone, that I’m going to be dangerous. I’m scared, too, that I’m never going to get back to the place I was before all of this happened. I don’t know if I can be in a relationship, if I can trust myself, if my friends can trust me, if I can use magic and be responsible and safe about it. I mean, if I lose control –“

“There it is,” Dana broke in.

Startled, Willow asked, “What? There what is?”

Dana leaned forward. “Think about all those things you just listed that you were afraid of. Each one of them has to do with control. You want to be able to control your feelings, control your magic, control your reactions to things, control your life.”

“Well, yeah,” Willow agreed.

“That’s good news,” Doctor Gruden announced.

Scrunching up her face uncertainly, Willow asked, “Why is that good news?”

“Because you don’t want a million things, you just want one.”

A look of recognition dawned on Willow’s face. “I want control. I want to be in control again.”

Dana shrugged. “Yup.”

“How do I do that, though?”

“Well,” Dana began, “you and I will do a lot of talking to strategize and work through particular components of the issue. Just because there’s one big issue tying everything together doesn’t mean the problems are going to look the same in every situation. We’re also going to practice and develop strategies to help you regain control in various aspects of your life.”

“Doctor Gruden,” Willow started.

“Dana.”

“Right, Dana,” Willow corrected herself. “Can I even do this? I mean, I don’t think you’d actually be honest with me about this because there are some things you just don’t tell people, like how a teacher will never actually say that their student is dumb even if that student is totally braindead, but – what if I’m not strong enough to get control of everything? What if I really can’t do it?”

Dana grinned. “Willow, you don’t need to get control of everything. You can’t get control of everything. Today, we’re just going to try to figure out how to get you a tiny bit of control over one tiny thing. This isn’t something you can plan and coordinate six months in advance, or predict ten or fifteen moves out. All we can do is try to help you get better today. Tomorrow, we can work on tomorrow.”

Willow let out a big breath and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Doctor Gruden agreed. “So, let’s pick one thing to work on today,” she said, looking through her notes. “You said earlier that you were afraid you weren’t going to be in a relationship. Are you seeing someone currently?”

Willow blanched. “No,” she replied hastily, “no, well, not really, I’m not…there’s no…”

Dana smiled warmly. “It’s okay, Willow. If you don’t want to talk about this, we won’t talk about it.”

Willow shook her head to clear her thoughts. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t actually know the answer to your question.”

“Go on,” Dana encouraged.

“There’s someone who I’ve…cared about for a long time. And he told me yesterday that he’s cared about me for a long time, too. And…we kissed.” Willow’s expression clouded over with concern.

“How did you feel about kissing him?” Doctor Gruden asked.

Willow blinked and cleared her expression. “Well, the kiss was –“Willow smiled reflexively – “the kiss was great. But…well, we’ve known each other for so long and everything feels so complicated. I don’t know if it’s a good thing that we kissed.”

“Have you spoken to him about it since it happened?”

“No, not yet. It was just last night. I’m planning to see him after this. What do I say? Are we dating now? How does this work? God, I can’t tell Buffy, I can’t tell anyone.”

“Why can’t you tell Buffy?”

Willow pressed her lips together, weighing her next words. Although she understood that Doctor Gruden was an unbiased third party and someone who would, at least to her face, not judge Willow for what she had done with Giles, she still felt embarrassed and reluctant to reveal everything.

“She and I have both been friends with him for ages. He’s kind of her mentor. It would be super weird if he and I were dating.”

“Do you think he wants to date?”

“I don’t know. The way he talked about his feelings for me, I can’t imagine he would just want to stay friends, but I also can’t imagine that we’d start going to the movies together or go out dancing. It’s not like I can take him to The Bronze.” Willow had a momentary flash of Giles trying to be hip with the cool kids at The Bronze. She stifled a grin.

“Do you want to date him?”

Willow’s mouth quirked into a frown. “I don’t know.” She hesitated, looking at her hands as they rested in her lap. “I…I think I might love him. But I don’t know what that means. And the whole thing is crazy anyway.”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Well, he’s been helping me practice my magic and work through my recovery. I’ve spent pretty much every day with him for the last two months. He practically knows me better than I know myself right now. When I’m with him, I feel totally safe, but I also feel…it’s like my insides are laid bare. I feel…” Willow trailed off, clearly searching for the word but not finding it.

“Vulnerable?” Doctor Gruden suggested.

Willow nodded, the barest hint of tears forming behind her eyes. “And I want to talk about it, I really do, but the people I’d normally turn to are the ones I absolutely can’t talk to about this.”

“What would you say if you could tell them?”

“Oh,” Willow laughed cynically, “just something like, ‘Hey Buffy, just wanted to let you know that the crush I’ve had on your Watcher for like five years is mutual and we made out in your training room.’ That would be fine, I’m sure.” Willow shook her head at her own silliness.

Doctor Gruden’s eyebrow twitched when Willow identified Buffy’s Watcher as the object of Willow’s affection, but she said nothing about it. Of course, as a supernaturally-aware psychologist, Doctor Gruden had heard of the Slayer and was familiar with the Watchers’ Council. Even so, she knew Willow wasn’t looking to get into it, so she remained as neutral as possible. She said, “It sounds like that’s what you think Buffy would hear. But what do you need to say?”

Willow breathed deeply, her eyes fixed on her fingernails. A moment passed. “I would say, ‘I feel totally lost. It’s only been a few months since Tara and I don’t know if I’m ready for this. And I care about him too much to risk ruining everything. I still feel guilty all the time because I almost killed him. He says he loves me but I don’t think he should. And I don’t want to have to choose between the people I love.’” Willow’s voice wavered just a little as she finished.

Dana paused before responding to Willow. “It seems like you’re really conflicted. That must be difficult.”

Willow nodded, avoiding Dana’s gaze.

Doctor Gruden continued, “If you could have one wish today with this relationship/non-relationship situation, anything at all, even if it’s not realistic, what would you want?”

Willow’s mouth twitched upward as she envisioned all of the ridiculous outcomes she could wish for. “I think,” she drawled, “I would like to walk up to him, and he would tell me exactly what our relationship is, and there would be no uncertainty or guessing, and then Buffy and Xander and everybody would be happy for us, and we’d all get dinner together.” Willow had to laugh at herself.

Dana smiled, but asked, “So, why is that funny?”

“It’s silly, that could never happen. Even if he and I figured out things between us, there is no way that Buffy and Xander would be fine with it. They’d flip out.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s just…he’s…” Willow snorted out of frustration, not happy about how difficult it was to get the words out. “He’s older and I’m younger. He’s Buffy’s Watcher, which would make it super awkward. I’d be like…her step-Watcher. And we’ve known each other for a long time platonically. As a group, we have this established dynamic and this would wreck everything. They would be totally weirded out.

“Are you weirded out?” Dana asked.

Willow shrugged, a look of discomfort on her face. “Well…yeah, kinda. Especially since…” Willow let her voice fade away. She had been thinking about what she and Giles had done in the training room before the kiss.

“Since?” Doctor Gruden pressed her.

“I don’t know if I can talk about that,” Willow said, her voice much quieter.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Dana assured her.

Willow breathed in and out, gathering her thoughts. “Is it…” she started, then stopped again. The psychologist waited patiently for Willow to find her voice.

“Is it normal if you like it when somebody hits you?” Willow felt her face flush, and she was frustrated by her reaction.

“What do you mean ‘hits you’?” Doctor Gruden asked.

“Not like, punches you, but…if someone were to…” Willow was already hating herself for opening up this line of dialogue. But her curiosity was stronger than her embarrassment. “If someone spanks you. Is it normal to like it?”

Doctor Gruden smiled, relieved. “Spanking is an extremely common activity that people engage in for sexual gratification. I don’t know what percentage of people would have to do it in order for it to be called ‘normal’, but it’s not bizarre, if that’s what you mean.” Dana smiled a little. She was beginning to understand the witch a little better.

“But, isn’t it…sick or wrong or something? Doesn’t it mean that you have something wrong with you if you like it?” Willow’s anxiety was written all over her face and etched into her voice, but she was too nervous to feel self-conscious about being nervous.

“That used to be the conventional wisdom, but that’s not what the research says,” Dana responded.

Willow perked up. The magic word: research. “What does the research say?”

“Well, we don’t really know how common it is for people to engage in activities and behaviors that fall under the umbrella of bondage, discipline, domination, submission, sadism, and masochism, or BDSM. It’s pretty hard to get people to report honestly about their sexual activity, and the phrasing of the questions also matters. But it’s possible that maybe half of all people who are sexually active enjoy BDSM and related activities.”

“Half?!?” Willow replied, shocked. “No way.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, we don’t have good numbers on it, but it’s definitely not a teeny tiny number. A lot of couples engage in BDSM in some or all of their sexual encounters to some degree. Some studies suggest it even makes people happier.”

Now Willow’s curiosity was well and truly piqued. “Happier? How? Why?”

Doctor Gruden, appreciative of Willow’s academic curiosity and herself interested in the subject, explained, “One study compared the psychological disorders of a sexually-normative group with the psychological disorders of BDSM practitioners. The people who engaged in BDSM had lower rates of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and paranoia, among other things.”

“Well,” Willow asked, “did the BDSM make the people have fewer disorders or were people with fewer disorders more likely to engage in BDSM?”

Doctor Gruden grinned warmly. “Now that’s a researcher talking. I don’t suppose you’re studying psychology, are you?”

Willow brightened, delighted by the praise. “I haven’t re-enrolled in college yet, but I was actually thinking about it. I really liked my psych class.”

“Well,” Dana affirmed, “not to give you too much of a nudge, but it’s worth considering, anyway. We could use critical thinkers like you in the field. Do you want me to send you a PDF of that study?”

“Yes, please,” Willow accepted eagerly. She was both excited to read about the details of the study as well as find out more about BDSM. Now that she had a term to search for, she knew she’d be doing some serious Googling later.

Dana couldn’t help but smile at Willow’s unadorned curiosity. “I’ll send it before my next appointment. Are we still on to meet again next week?”

Willow nodded, “You bet.” She was already feeling comfortable with Doctor Gruden. Doctor Lane had made a good match.

“Alright, then I’ll see you in a week, Willow. It was really great meeting you.” Dana reached out her hand and Willow shook it.

“Thanks, Dana. It was great meeting you, too.”

Willow exited the office with her heart feeling just a tiny bit lighter.

\------------------------

Back in Sunnydale, Giles was having a strange day. His mood was oscillating back and forth between the joy and desire he felt with Willow and the deep reservations he had about what might be brewing between them. He loved her, truly, and he knew that. He had ignored his feelings for years, then tried to deny them for years after that, but now there was nothing for it but to admit his love for her.

Shedding the hopelessness of his ruse was freeing in its own way, but the now he had to face the uncomfortable reality beneath. He had managed to move beyond the guilt he felt for his past sins, but he had a new sin to repent for, and seemed keen on transgressing again. The late-afternoon sun glinted off the glass counter at the Magic Box and highlighted a few particles of dust floating in the air.

_Loving Willow is not a sin_ , he tried to convince himself. He had been having this argument in his head all day. _Yes, she is younger than you, and yes, there is something troubling about the power dynamic in your relationship_ , he admitted, _but she is a grown woman. If she wants to be with you, that is her choice._

Giles rolled his eyes at himself, then removed and cleaned his glasses. His lenses were the cleanest they’d ever been today. He had waffled on his feelings about Willow for hours and was no closer to figuring anything out. He checked his phone for the tenth time that hour, but no messages from Willow. Her appointed would have ended hours ago, but she had never said she would definitely talk to him that day. Was she going to contact him? Was he supposed to contact her? What was she expecting?

He opened their previous text conversation and wrote:

> How did it go with Doctor Gruden?

_Neutral enough, not too eager_ , he thought. He slid the phone into his pocket, but just as he did, he felt it buzz. Greedily, he took it back out and opened the new message.

> Really well, I think

Giles felt a small sense of relief. It was important for Willow’s continued recovery and healing that she have a local therapist who understood the unique ins and outs of her situation. Doctor Lane had been careful about selecting a referral for Willow, but it was no guarantee that it would be a good match. If Doctor Gruden really was a good fit, Willow could begin to strengthen her support system back home.

He dithered on whether to continue the conversation. Finally, he sent another message:

> Buffy said she’s coming by later. Will you be accompanying her?

He actually felt nervous sending that message, a sensation he derided himself for. _Come on Giles_ , he told himself, _you’re not a child. You don’t need to act like a teenage boy asking out the girl in math class._

His pocket buzzed.

> I was thinking about coming in early, actually.

Giles smiled at the screen as he read her message. Just the thought of her coming to the shop, a thing that had happened a hundred times before, was raising Giles’ spirits. He began to type out a reply when a customer approached the counter.

“Excuse me,” the woman said.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, what can I do for you?” Giles responded. He looked up and saw Willow’s radiant face staring up at him mischievously. He didn’t know whether to chide her for her silly trick or feel embarrassed for being caught off guard. In the end, he simply smiled at her.

“Do you know when Buffy is supposed to get here?” Willow asked.

“In an hour or two, I think,” Giles replied. “Why?”

“I think I have an idea about how to defeat this Gaarvoth thing, but I’ll have to do a relatively complicated piece of magic. I mean, it’s nothing compared to what I was doing six months ago, but it’s harder than a house of cards.”

“Alright…” Giles said, a question in his voice.

Willow glanced around at the empty shop. “It might help me control my power better if I were to get…” She lowered her voice and leaned towards Giles, despite the lack of people in the store. “…if I were to get some additional training time with you.” She raised her eyebrows to make sure her meaning was getting through.

Under other circumstances, Giles would have judged Willow a bit harshly for her lack of subtlety, but right now he was not concerned about that. He walked straight over to the front door, flipped the sign to “closed”, and turned back to Willow. His eyes met hers. He held her gaze for a moment, then flicked his eyes toward the training room, and met her eyes again. She immediately spun on her heels and strode to the back of the shop, her tight jeans hugging her curves as she walked. Giles followed closely behind her.

Once in the training room, Giles closed and locked the door. Willow walked over to the table, facing it, looking back at Giles with her eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“No, Willow,” Giles said softly. “I suspect that would be uncomfortable for you, even more than either of us would enjoy.” He walked up behind her and gently traced the outside curve of her left buttock with his fingertips. She inhaled and pulled away just slightly. “Mmm. You’re undoubtedly going to need some time to heal after last night. I don’t dare try to hit you again. Not today.”

Willow pouted slightly. “So what do we do, then?”

Giles placed both hands on Willow’s hips. “I’m sure we can figure out something.”


	10. Penetrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Willow and Giles' romance heats up, the gang come face to face with the necromancer. Not everyone makes it out unscathed.

“Giles?” Buffy called. The Slayer walked in the door of the Magic Box but found the store empty. The sign said “closed” but the front door was open. She stepped down from the front display area down onto the main floor but she still didn’t spot her Watcher. “Giles?”

In the training room, Willow’s whole body stiffened and her breath caught in her throat. Giles stood behind her, his left arm wrapped around her torso with his hand gripping her throat, while his right hand was thrust down the front of her unbuttoned pants. He was gently teasing her, stroking her everywhere but her clit.

“Shh,” Giles whispered in her ear. “Say nothing. Make no sound. Do you understand?”

Willow almost responded aloud, then thought better of it. She nodded emphatically, twisting her head to make sure Giles understood her extreme discomfort at this situation. She expected him to pull away so that they could collect themselves and join Buffy in the main room of the shop. Instead, Giles acted like nothing was happening.

“I’m with Willow in the training room, Buffy,” Giles called loudly. “We’re practicing a dangerous spell so I’ve sequestered us back here as a precautionary measure. We’ll be out momentarily, I assure you.”

In the front of the shop, Buffy shrugged and called, “Okey dokey.” She planted herself at the main table and took out her phone to kill some time.

After Giles and Willow were certain that Buffy wasn’t going to try to come back there or inquire further, Giles began working on Willow in earnest. He kissed her neck softly, pressing his face into her hair to enjoy the scent of her shampoo. Willow’s hands were bound behind her back, her palms pressed up against Giles’ obvious erection. She had no room to maneuver, but was still doing her best to stimulate him as he teased her.

Finally, sensing that Willow’s tension was reaching its high point, Giles directed his attention to her clit, his hand moving rapidly inside her jeans. Willow very nearly cried out, but a gentle squeeze from Giles’ left hand reminded her to be quiet. Her body trembled, but her voice remained silent.

Soon, Willow’s legs were shaking and Giles knew that she was close to orgasm. He took his fingers off her clit and pressed his mouth right up next to her ear.

“My dearest Willow, know that your orgasms belong to me. They are mine to give to you or mine to withhold. If you come, it is because I wish it.” He moved his left hand from her throat up to caress her face. He turned her slightly towards him and kissed her heatedly. After a moment, he resumed his stimulation and brought Willow to a devastating orgasm. Her knees gave way, but he held her up. She had somehow managed to remain totally silent, an effort that pleased Giles immensely.

When she had recovered enough to stand, she turned to him and rubbed against the stiffness still evident in his pants. She met his eyes, desire and pity in her face, and mouthed, “You?”

Giles shook his head. Willow raised her eyebrows in a doubtful expression and cast a glance over toward the front of the shop where Buffy was waiting for them. With a sly smile, Willow dropped to her knees on the padded training room floor. Her hands were still bound behind her back. She looked up at Giles with her round eyes pleading. “Please?” she mouthed. She bit her lower lip.

That was more than Giles could stand. He undid his pants and freed his rigid cock. Willow immediately began tonguing it, taking the head into her mouth and working moisture down the shaft. She may not have played the field, but she knew how to make this feel good. She took more and more of his length into her mouth, swirling her tongue along the underside of the head to stimulate the most sensitive areas.

Giles’ fingers found their way into Willow’s hair and became tangled in her red tresses. He resisted the urge to fuck her mouth, but it was a challenge to contain himself. Regardless, he knew he would reach orgasm any second. Seeing how readily she got to her knees, how she didn’t hesitate even for a second before swallowing his cock, how she begged him to let her get him off…he felt a building pressure and he knew he was going to come. He let out a hoarse whisper, hardly even audible in the silent room. “Willow, I’m –“ Before he could even finish his sentence, he was shooting cum down her throat, an incredible orgasm that left him completely breathless.

Willow swallowed every drop and, when he was done, did her best to clean him off. Then she, too, was left breathing heavy, kneeling on the floor and trying to recover from the encounter. After Giles collected his faculties, he buttoned his pants back up and helped Willow to her feet. Freeing her hands, he also buttoned her jeans and did his best to smooth out her hair, which he had rather mussed up during their tryst. She smiled warmly, enjoying his attentive care. Reaching up with her hands on his face, she pulled him into a sweet kiss. Then, loud enough for the whole city block to hear, she said, “Thanks, Giles. I feel much better about that spell now.”

As she turned, Giles gave her bottom a single light smack, causing her to yelp as she opened the door to the main room of The Magic Box.

“You alright, Wil?” Buffy asked, worried.

Willow coughed. “Oh, yeah, just got a static zap from that doorknob. Eek!” Willow grinned foolishly and hoped Buffy couldn’t tell that anything untoward had happened. “No Dawn?”

“Sleepover,” Buffy replied. “The best free babysitting is the one that she thinks is a treat.”

Keeping his distance behind the witch, Giles exited the training room and went straight to the counter to make some tea. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, and he needed to calm down before he spoke to Buffy.

“So,” Willow segued, “are we going after big beastie tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Buffy confirmed, then added hastily, “that is, if you’re up for it.”

Willow smiled, “You bet. I’ve been working on my spells and I think I have something for us tonight.”

The bell at the storefront jingled and Xander strode in. He took a seat at the table next to Willow and nodded to her and Buffy, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. He noticed Willow seemed calm and content, the first time he’d seen her like that since she got back. In his head, he did the Snoopy dance.

“See, the Gaarvoth demon isn’t that physically strong,” Willow explained, “or, at least not super-duper strong like a lot of other demons. His power is magical, and he uses it to raise the dead.”

“So if I was fighting this guy one-on-one, I could take him,” Buffy concluded.

“Yeah, at least, that’s what the books say,” Willow agreed. “The problem is, you never get him one-on-one. His strategy is to surround himself with dead guys-“

“And dead girls,” Xander offered, remembering his zombie battle from two nights prior.

Willow rolled her eyes and amended her statement, “Yes, dead guys and dead girls. So he’s not going to let you fight him solo.”

Buffy huffed. “Alright, so what’s the play? You said you have a spell in mind?”

Xander leaned in with both curiosity and concern.

“Yeah, so I’m not exactly battle-ready, and I know that,” Willow admitted, “but I think I can disrupt the Gaarvoth’s ability to make more dead minions. If I can make it so he can’t bring zombies into the fight, you might be able to take him out.”

Giles walked over and placed a tray of tea cups on the table, then sat across from Willow. Xander asked, “Wil, you’re sure that this is a good idea? That locator spell didn’t exactly seem dangerous until you were one with the wall over there.”

“I know,” Willow replied, “and I still have the bruises. Trust me, I’m aware that this could go really wrong. Any spell could go really wrong. But I’ve been practicing and meditating and I even saw my therapist today. I feel good, really.” She reached over and squeezed Xander’s hand in reassurance.

Giles added, “Willow has been training with me for the last few days as well. She’s really quite the remarkable student.” Giles held Willow’s gaze for an instant, a moment of heat passing between them unseen by the others.

“Well yeah,” Xander exclaimed, “Willow’s been the best student in California since, I don’t know, birth. I’m not worried about her knowledge or her skills. I’m worried that it’s too early.”

Buffy, wanting to show a united front, joined in. “Yeah, Wil, I’m with Xander. If this is too soon, if it’s too much, then don’t do it.”

Willow’s mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. “Guys, I appreciate the concern. Seriously, I do. But I really think I can do it. Let me try.”

All three of them looked at Giles as the arbiter of the plan. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “If Willow says she’s ready, we should trust her.”

Buffy nodded decisively. “Okay, let’s get this guy. What do you need?”

\-------------

An hour later, the gang was tromping through the cemetery on the eastern side of town, hoping that the Gaarvoth would appear there as he had several nights over the past week or two.

Buffy, armed with a battle-axe, led the team, followed by Xander with a baseball bat and Giles with his trusty mace. Willow, unarmed except for her magic accoutrements, stood in the middle of the three others, trying to feel for any magical activity in the area.

“Buffy,” she said, “head a little left. There’s…something. It might not be our guy, but this is the best I can do without blowing myself up with a locator spell.”

“Got it,” Buffy acknowledged, and shifted her path accordingly.

If they hadn’t been hunting for a demon, the night might have actually qualified as peaceful. The full moon cast a bright white glow over everything, and the trees had just started shedding some of their leaves in anticipation of true autumn. There was hardly any wind, and the temperatures were cool but not unpleasantly so. Willow idly wondered if Oz had changed tonight or not, then pushed the musings out of her head so she could focus on the task at hand.

Buffy stopped suddenly, and the others followed suit. She turned around to make eye contact with the rest of the gang, then tilted her head to indicate a direction. Buffy led the crew to a large sarcophagus that they could duck behind, which they did.

In a whisper, Buffy laid out the plan. “Okay, I think I see our guy on the other side of the path over there. He has a zombie or two with him already and looks like he’s in the middle of doing another ritual. Xander, Giles, and I are going to surround him and the zombies. Giles and Xander, you keep the zombies off me. I’m going to take out the necromancer. Willow, can you disrupt his magic from this distance?”

Willow scrunched up her mouth. “I don’t know. I might have to be closer.”

Buffy nodded. “Okay, try from here, but move in only if you need to. Try to stay hidden.”

Willow nodded. Buffy looked around her to make sure everyone understood the plan, then said, “Let’s go.”

Buffy and Xander crept from behind the sarcophagus and split up to flank the demon. Giles, after he was sure they were gone, leaned over and kissed Willow passionately. “Don’t get hurt,” he whispered to her.

“You either,” she said, her expression serious. And with that, Giles snuck away to join the other two.

Willow began the spell to interfere with the demon’s magic. She kept her voice to a whisper and chanted. The magic was working fine, but the affected area wasn’t large enough. She needed to move closer for her spell to reach the demon. The Gaarvoth was standing in a circle of candles, wearing a hooded robe and chanting. He was already trying to raise another body.

Sneaking around the sarcophagus, Willow crept over to a large oak tree only ten or so yards from the fight that was now in progress. She would have to work quickly to prevent the necromancer from raising any additional help. Resuming her chanting and drawing power from within, Willow cast the disruption spell to immediate effect.

The Gaarvoth bellowed in rage, casting off his hood and revealing a horrifying bovine-human hybrid. Horns curved forward from his enormous cow-like head. He looked vaguely minotaur-esque, but it wasn’t just a bull head on a human body; the torso wasn’t quite human, and his legs didn’t look right. The overall impression was deeply unsettling, and the Gaarvoth’s rage only added to the effect. The narrow nostrils flared as he reeled to face Buffy. Xander and Giles were holding their own with the zombies, who were slow and stupid, but they had their hands full. Buffy was facing the demon alone. The Gaarvoth may not have super strength, but he was nearly seven feet tall and unbelievably creepy-looking.

Willow continued to chant, doing her best to focus on the spell rather than the fight. The Gaarvoth was taking a beating from the Slayer, but managed to land a serious blow that sent Buffy backwards into a headstone. She landed with her spine bent up over the gravestone, then rolled over onto her knees, clearly dazed. The Gaarvoth turned around and started walking towards the tree where Willow was hiding.

Caught up in her magic, Willow didn’t see the demon coming. Buffy, still trying to stand after getting the wind knocked out of her, managed to groan, “Wil!” which got the witch’s attention. Willow peered around the tree to find the Gaarvoth only feet away and closing fast. She stood and faced the demon, backing up as quickly as she could while still chanting.

“Face me, you cloven-hooved pillock!” Giles stepped between the Gaarvoth and Willow. The demon glanced from Willow to Giles, then dove for Giles. The Watcher dodged, but the demon was fast. As Giles brought his mace up to strike a blow, the necromancer fell to all fours and lunged at him, spearing him in the abdomen with a horn.

Giles cried out, crumpling to the ground as the Gaarvoth again stood and resumed his pursuit of Willow. The witch screamed, “Giles!” and wanted more than anything to run to him, but the Gaarvoth was coming for her. Instinctively, she raised a barrier spell as she had with the zombies the night before. The Gaarvoth walked right through it.

“Oh, shit,” Willow uttered. She was out of ideas and the demon was here.

“Hey, dickhead,” the Slayer called.

The demon whirled, and as he did so, Buffy parted him from his giant head. The head landed with a deep thud on the ground, and Buffy nodded as if she were checking an item off of her to-do list.

Together, Buffy and Willow said, “Giles.”

They ran over to where the Watcher lay, his abdomen bleeding freely. Willow took out her phone and called for an ambulance. Xander trotted over, calling “Hey, did you guys see how I killed two zombies by myself? Two of ‘em!” When he got closer, he saw Giles bleeding on the ground. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered.

Buffy tore off the sleeve of her sweatshirt and pressed it into Giles’ stomach. He groaned loudly, writhing in pain. “Giles,” the Slayer told him sternly, “you are going to be okay. I know it hurts. But we’re going to get you to the hospital and you’re going to be okay.”

“Xander,” Willow called, “the ambulance crew is on their way but they will need someone to guide them from the entrance of the cemetery to where we are.”

“On it.” And with that, Xander was sprinting to the cemetery gates.

Willow dropped to her knees in anguish, kneeling at Giles’ side. She grabbed his hand in both of hers. She wanted to admonish him for getting hurt when she told him not to. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t allowed to die because they had just started something brand new so he couldn’t leave yet. She wanted to tell him she had loved him every day that she had known him. But the words wouldn’t come, so she held his hand and silently pleaded with any higher being that might be listening.

The approaching wail of sirens shook Willow out of her prayer. She stood up and waved her arms in the air frantically, signaling the paramedics. Buffy made up a story about them being mugged which was entirely implausible, but thankfully, first responders in Sunnydale had seen just about everything and they chose not to question it. After assessing Giles’ condition, they put him on a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance.

“I’m coming,” Buffy asserted.

“Are you family?” one of the paramedics asked.

Buffy stared him down with fire in her eyes.

“Get in,” the EMT assented.

“Meet us at the hospital!” Buffy called to Willow and Xander.

The pair ran to Xander’s car and began the drive across town to Sunnydale Memorial. Driving ten miles per hour over the speed limit, Xander’s nervous chatter filled the air in the car.

“And you know, Giles is a fighter. I know he’s basically ancient and he doesn’t have Slayer healing powers, but he’s tough. You remember how he bounced back from that time Angelus tortured him a bunch, and all the other times he’s gotten hurt. He can take it. They’re going to patch him up and have him back to not laughing at my jokes in no time.” Xander’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

Willow, having tried and failed at affecting stoicism, burst into tears. She collapsed against the passenger door and wept.

Xander urged, “Oh god, Willow, please don’t fall apart, it’s going to be okay, really, it is. Giles is going to be okay.”

Through her sobs, Willow cried, “How do you know that? How do you know that he’ll even make it to the hospital? How do you know he’s not dead already in the ambulance?” Her bawling was making her wheeze and cough.

“Wil,” Xander soothed her, “we can’t think like that. I know this is scary but we have to be positive.”

Willow buried her face in her hands and whimpered, “Why is this happening now? Why…we just…he finally…why is this happening?”

Xander furrowed his brow. “He finally what?”

Willow lifted her head up. “Huh?” She sniffled loudly.

“Just now, you started to say that ‘he finally’ did something.”

“Nothing, Xander. Forget it. Please just get us to the hospital.”

Xander sighed but said nothing. He wondered if something was going on that he didn’t understand, but now was not the time for investigations. He sped up, determined to get to the hospital as the ambulance arrived.


	11. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow, Buffy, and Xander wait for news on Giles' status at the hospital. Willow devises a way to see him without being seen herself.

Buffy, Willow, and Xander occupied three chairs in an otherwise empty waiting room outside the trauma surgery area at Sunnydale Memorial. Two hours ago, Giles had been taken in for emergency surgery to stop bleeding inside his abdomen. The others waited more or less patiently for news. The doctors said they wouldn’t know anything, including the duration of the surgery, until they opened Giles up and saw what they were dealing with.

Midnight came and went with no news. Buffy made Xander go home after he fell asleep so hard that he toppled out of his chair. For her part, Willow couldn’t even think about sleep at this point. She vacillated between pacing around the room and sitting in her chair staring into space. Buffy was trying to be the strong one, as always, but Willow caught her crying at the vending machines.

“Buffy,” Willow said gently, “maybe you should go home, too. Even if he does come out of surgery, they’re not going to let us see him right now. We’re not family and it’s the middle of the night. I can stay. I’m still getting over my jetlag so my sleep schedule already makes no sense. Besides, you have work in the morning and you’ll need to be the one to tell Dawn what happened.”

Buffy let out a big breath. “Dawn. She’s going to lose it.”

“Yeah, probably,” Willow agreed. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll text you the second I know something, promise.”

Buffy nodded reluctantly, a wave of exhaustion coming over her. “Okay.” The pair hugged and Buffy left to walk home.

Alone in the waiting room, Willow paced uneasily. Another two hours passed. She checked with the nurses’ station for the tenth time, but knew that they wouldn’t have anything to tell her.

Willow began imagining all of the possible reasons that the surgery could be talking so long. They couldn’t stop the bleeding. Giles’ organs had been damaged beyond repair and they had to remove one or more of them. Giles’ heart had stopped and they had to restart it. Each scenario was more gruesome and upsetting than the last. Despite her exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, Willow began to get more and more agitated as she waited. She had convinced herself that Giles wasn’t going to survive the surgery, and her anxiety grew and grew as she paced the floor.

Realizing she was getting herself too worked up, Willow grabbed a magazine from the rack, but as soon as she touched it, the magazine turned to sludge in her hands. She reached for another magazine but achieved the same result. Willow looked at the piles of goop on the floor, then stared at her hands. _What the hell is happening?_ she wondered. Panic, on top of her worry for Giles, started to build.

Willow walked slowly over to a plant on the coffee table. She reached out her hand, but just as her fingertips grazed the tallest leaf, the plant disintegrated into a puddle of sludge. _Okay, confirmed, now let’s stop touching things._

With a bang, it hit her: she was doing it. With her mind, with magic. _I’ve been thinking about how things are falling apart¸_ she worked out in her head. _So now I’m making things literally fall apart._

She immediately stood still and closed her eyes. _Get a grip, Willow_ , she told herself. _This accidental magic thing has the potential to be really damaging._ Nope, not good enough. _You break it, you buy it._ Still cursed with mush fingers. She opened her eyes and rubbed her eyebrows nervously. She remembered her hair going black with Oz and she was afraid the same thing would happen here, only Giles wouldn’t be around to pick up the pieces. _Imagine what Giles would say if he knew you were losing control of your magic_.

That did it. The thought of Giles’ disappointment was like a bucket of cold water. Willow felt her brain snap into focus. She closed her eyes again and concentrated on clearing her mind. Within moments, she felt the traces of the spell fade away as though blown by the wind. Willow was even able to return the magazines and the plant to their former states.

Plopping down in a chair, Willow finally gave into fatigue and caught a few minutes of sleep.

\-----------------

An hour before dawn, the surgeon emerged and gently roused Willow.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Hernandez,” the woman explained. “I’ve just come from fixing up your friend Rupert.”

Even in her dazed state, Willow found the use of Giles’ given name rather humorous. After stifling a smile and getting up out of her chair, she asked, “How is he?”

“He’s going to be okay,” Doctor Hernandez reassured Willow. “He had some internal bleeding that took us a long time to get under control, but his prognosis is good. He’s recovering in his room now, but you can see him tomorrow.”

Willow thanked the doctor four times before finally letting her leave. Sticking her hands in her back pockets, Willow walked around the room, trying to figure out what she should do. She could go home, she could stay here…oh, Buffy! She whipped out her phone.

> Giles is out of surgery. He’s okay.

Then, knowing that Buffy would want to come straight here:

> Doc says no visitors til tomorrow/later today. He’s still recovering.

Buffy, who evidently was not sleeping very heavily, replied:

> Thanks Wil. You’re the best.

Willow stuck her phone back in her coat pocket and paced the room some more. If only there were a way that she could see Giles right now.

An idea began forming in the back of her brain. The only thing stopping her from visiting Giles was that the nurses would kick her out if they say her. If they never saw her, they couldn’t make her leave. A modified glamour-type spell might do the trick. If she could be invisible to the staff, she could stay with Giles until he woke up.

Escaping to a broom closet, Willow began to chant.

_Gods who shape the fates of all_   
_I beg you now to hear my call_   
_Let those here sworn to do no harm_   
_Fail to see who casts this charm_

Stepping out into the hallway, Willow thought about how to test to see if her glamour had worked. She walked over to the nurses’ station and gave a little “ahem”. The nurse on duty looked up, appeared confused, then returned to his paperwork. _Success!_ she thought.

She waited for the coast to be clear, then stole into Giles’ recovery room. He looked bad. Willow had known in an intellectual sense what to expect when someone had emergency surgery, but the sight of Giles hooked up to all the machines was devastating. Tears slid down Willow’s cheeks freely.

Pulling the visitor’s chair right up next to his bedside, Willow sat as near to Giles as she could. She grabbed his hand and brought it up to her face, relieved at the warmth of his skin next to hers.

Her tears falling onto his knuckles, she whispered, “We agreed not to get hurt.” Her voice broke and she couldn’t say any more. She simply held his hand and breathed. Ten minutes later, she was asleep in the chair, her hand still grasping his.

\-------------------

As the late morning sun filtered into the hospital room, Giles’ eyes opened just a crack. His head was swimming. He recognized the familiar sensation of being heavily medicated. Realizing he had been seriously injured, he did a quick mental check. He could see and hear. He could wiggle his toes. He had all his fingers.

He felt something in his hand and looked over. Willow Rosenberg was passed out seated next to his bed, her fingers lightly resting on his. Evidently, she had been holding his hand. He smiled softly, taking a moment to appreciate her beauty even while she slept in a horrible hospital-provided chair. As he studied her face, he remembered the night before. The Gaarvoth, the fight at the cemetery, the demon’s horn piercing Giles’ gut. He had vague recollections of an ambulance, but nothing after that until he woke up in this room.

The Watcher reached his hand towards Willow another inch, recapturing her hand in his. It took a disconcerting amount of effort. Willow awoke with a start, crying out fearfully, “Giles!”

After blinking and shaking her head a few times, Willow’s eyes focused and she saw that Giles was awake. For a split second, Willow’s expression betrayed desperation and panic, but she immediately fixed her features into something resembling a neutral, strong expression. Giles recognized that she was trying to be tough for him.

“Willow,” he breathed, “are you alright?”

Willow laughed, the sound coming out almost as a sob. “You’re the one in the hospital and your first question is whether I’m alright?"

“Fair enough,” Giles acknowledged, “I suppose that’s a bit silly of me.”

Willow’s eyes shone with tears but she renewed her effort to keep a brave face. “You’re going to be okay, by the way. They say you’re going to be okay.”

“What happened after the cemetery?” Giles asked.

“You rode in an ambulance and came here to Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. They took you straight into surgery. You were in there for over six hours. The doctor said you had a lot of internal bleeding that they had to get under control, but that you’re okay now. You’ll have to rest for a while, obviously, but they didn’t have to remove anything.”

“I suppose I’d be more concerned,” Giles sighed, “if these drugs weren’t so excellent. Where’s Buffy? Is she okay too?”

Willow squeezed his hand. “She’s fine, she went home. I told her I’d keep an eye on you. She’s going to come by later today to check on you.”

The door to the room opened and a nurse came in, a confused expression on her face. She scanned the room briefly. “Who were you talking to, Mister…” She consulted her chart. “…Giles?”

Giles looked over at Willow, then back to the nurse. “Well, is there anyone else in here?” he asked evasively.

“Nobody in here but us chickens,” the nurse replied absentmindedly, scribbling notes onto the chart.

“Then I suppose I was talking to myself.” Giles exchanged a look with Willow. He understood that she must have performed a spell to make herself invisible to the staff. It was not a particularly smart use of her power. He was impressed by the spell, of course, and it was endearing that she would do that for him, but they would need to discuss it later.

“How is your pain level, Mr. Giles?” the nurse asked.

“What pain?”

“That’s the spirit. Press the call button if you need anything. Have a good day.” With that, the nurse left the room.

Giles laid back on his pillow, exhausted just by that brief conversation. He felt as though he had been run over by a dozen trucks, then scraped off the street and placed into a cement mixer.

“I should let you get some rest. I just didn’t want you to wake up alone, but I should probably go now,” Willow whispered. She stood up, but Giles kept hold of her hand.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. More than anything, he didn’t want to be alone.

Willow’s heart felt as though someone had reached in and squeezed all the blood out of it. Of course she would stay.

Giles gingerly scooted himself over to one side of the bed towards the IV stand, wincing sharply as he moved. Gently, Willow climbed onto the edge of the gurney, careful not to interfere with the monitoring equipment on that side. She lay slightly higher than Giles on the bed, curving her torso around his head and shoulders protectively. When she was settled, Giles nestled his head into the crook of her armpit.

Willow remembered her cuddling up to Giles like this on more than one occasion recently. She had needed him so badly, and she felt so much better when he held her. She hoped that she could comfort Giles as much as he comforted her.

“Stay with me,” Giles whispered, his voice fading into nothing before he finished his sentence.

“Of course I will,” Willow promised, kissing Giles on the forehead before they both fell asleep.

\---------------

At 1 o’clock, the sound of whispering drew Willow out of her dreamless sleep. When she opened her eyes, she saw Buffy and Xander standing at the foot of Giles’ hospital bed. Buffy wore a curious expression while Xander simply stared with his eyebrows arched nearly to his hairline.

Willow looked around and realized that she and Giles must look awfully cozy to her two friends. She could feel her face begin to flush with embarrassment. As she shifted on the bed, Giles also awoke, angling away from Willow then wincing at the effort.

Xander, deciding that this was neither the time nor the place for awkward heart-to-hearts, offered, “I always hated those hospital chairs, too. I fell asleep in one and ended up with a crick in my neck for a week. This just goes to show why Willow is the brains of the operation.”

Giles, never more grateful for Xander’s incessant chatter, played along. “Yes, thank you for staying, Willow, but I’ll be very happy to have my bed back to myself.”

Willow carefully climbed out of the bed and stood next to her friends.

Buffy, shrugging indifferently, moved over the Giles’ bedside and presented him with a grease-stained paper bag. “We brought lunch!”

\--------------

Over the next half hour, Buffy doted on Giles and made him eat entirely too much of the Doublemeat combo meal she had bought along. Willow, happy to hang back and let the conversation go on without her, interjected only when it would have been odd for her not to. Xander avoided making eye contact with Willow; she wasn’t sure whether that was for the best or not.

The day nurse came into the room and looked from the bag of food to Giles to Buffy, offering a stern look. “It is not visiting hours,” she stated loudly. “Mr. Giles needs his rest. Both of you need to leave.”

“Both of us?” Buffy asked, confused about the nurse’s choice of words. Weren’t there three extra people in the room?

“Yes, you and your boyfriend need to give Mr. Giles some space. He can receive visitors another time.”

Before Buffy could question her further, the nurse was shooing her and Xander from the room, and Willow dutifully followed. Willow shot one last glance at Giles, who gave her a small smile before she was out of sight.

As the gang walked back to the elevator, Buffy remarked, “That was weird. Willow, why didn’t she try to kick you out, too?”

“Oh, uh,” Willow fumbled, “Well, last night, I told her that I was Giles’ niece, and that’s why she let me stay. It must be a rule about families or something.”

“I could have been Giles’ niece,” Buffy said, scowling. “Well, at least we got to see him and make sure he was okay. I wonder when they’re going to release him.”

“According to the doctor, it will depend on when Giles farts,” Willow explained.

Xander tee-heed. “When he farts? That’s a medical benchmark?”

“Yeah,” Willow explained, her face totally serious. “You see, Giles had surgery on multiple organs, including his bowel. His basic function tests came back fine this morning, but in order to make sure that his digestive system is working okay, he needs to be able to fart. If he farts, he gets to go home.”

Xander nodded slowly, his eyes wide. He looked as though he had learned more from those few sentences than from his entire career of formal schooling.

“Huh,” Buffy marveled. “I had no idea that bringing him that burger was so crucial to his medical treatment.”

With that, the gang boarded the elevator and headed out of the hospital.

\-------------------

Although Xander had offered Buffy and Willow a ride home from the hospital, they begged off, preferring the pleasant crispness of the fall air. As they walked, Willow took the opportunity to hear more about Buffy’s life over the past two months.

“It’s not so bad,” Buffy assured Willow. “I mean, the people there are totally weird and you can smell me coming from a mile away, but my boss is nice. And it pays the bills. It’s not glamorous, but it’s enough for now. It’s been hard ever since…” Buffy paused, then sighed. “Since Mom. But it’s not as bad as it was.”

Willow put her arm around the Slayer for a moment and gave her a reassuring squeeze as they moseyed down the sidewalk. Although they were both exhausted from the previous night’s events, neither was in a particular hurry to get home.

“Now that I’m back,” Willow offered, “maybe I’ll be able to find a part-time job and help you out with some of the bills.”

Buffy shook her head. “Willow, you haven’t even been back a week. You don’t need to worry about that. Seriously, you should be settling back in, maybe thinking about going back to school.”

Willow leveled a skeptical look at her friend. “You think I’m going to sit around living rent-free in your house?”

“Remember the whole taking-care-of-Dawn-while-I-was-dead thing? You could coast for years on the karma left over from that.”

Willow smiled and playfully bumped Buffy’s shoulder with her own. “Alright, but you know I’m still going to look for a job anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Buffy acknowledged, matching Willow’s smile.

“So what else has been going on around here? Dawn said something about Spike being weird? Like, weirder than usual?”

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hands under her armpits. “Yeah,” she admitted, but did not elaborate.

“Is he okay?” Willow wasn’t really too concerned with Spike’s wellbeing, but she knew Buffy was. It something mattered to Buffy, it mattered to Willow, too.

“Not really.”

“Do I have to play twenty questions, or are you going to tell me what’s up?”

Buffy glanced over at Willow and met her friend’s concerned gaze. Arriving at Buffy’s house, they parked themselves on the steps leading up to the porch. “Remember how Spike skipped town earlier this year?”

Willow nodded. Sighing, the Slayer launched into the story. “Well, he left after he…after we had a…a fight. When he got back, I found out that he had left because he wanted to get his soul back.”

“Did he?”

“Yup, he sure did. Apparently there was some sort of ritual with painful trials. He went through this whole procedure to get his soul back.”

“Why did he do that? He always gave Angel so much crap for having a soul.”

“Yeah, I know. He says…” Buffy paused, then in a quiet voice, said, “He says he did it for me.”

Willow’s eyes went wide and she let out a breath. “Woah.”

“Yeah. Woah.” Buffy brought her knees closer to her chest.

“So are you two…have you…” Willow struggled to find the right words.

“We’re not together. We’re not going to be together. But he’s different now and I don’t really know what to do about it.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

Buffy scrunched up her face and shrugged. “I dunno. I guess part of me always will be, but we are _so_ over. Super over.”

“Hey,” Willow said brightly, “maybe you could date another human next. That could be fun.”

\-----------------------

Two hours after the nurse shooed everyone out of his room, Giles lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Alone and in pain, he had nothing to do with himself but sit and think. His embarrassment at having Buffy and Xander discover Willow in his bed had given him pause. Although he had recognized the necessity of keeping his indiscretions with Willow a secret, he now began to recognize the impossibility of building a real relationship with her. This whole endeavor, he decided, had been a dreadful mistake.

With every moment that passed, he grew angrier and angrier at himself. He had initiated a sexual relationship with a girl half his age. He had developed feelings for her when she was just 16 years old. That may be the age of consent in the UK, but that didn’t make it morally acceptable. What’s more, he had leveraged his position as teacher and mentor to bring her closer to him. She may have had feelings for him, but his long-standing influence over her made it impossible to know if she had really been acting of her own volition when she did…those things with him.

Giles had been battling with these demons for days, ever since the trip back from England. He had known all along what the right thing to do was, but he didn’t have the spine to do it. He never should have allowed Willow to get so close to him, nor should he have even entertained the idea of becoming sexually involved with her, even if he thought it would benefit her in more than one way. Perhaps most egregiously, he never should have confessed his feelings for her. Sex makes things complicated enough; love is like an autoimmune disorder, making the heart act against its own best interests. Now that he and Willow had spoken their feelings for each other aloud, the only path that lay ahead was heartbreak.

Underneath this familiar rage and guilt was a new disappointment. When Willow was in danger, when she needed him most, Giles had failed her. In the graveyard, when the Gaarvoth was headed straight for her, Giles had barely given it pause before it tossed him aside and went after Willow.

The pain in his gut flared suddenly and he reached reflexively for the button to increase the dosage of medication. In the same moment, he stayed his hand. This pain was the very least he deserved. He took his hand from the button and balled his fist.

Giles’ physical inability to protect Willow and his moral failure to remain honorable with her were his twin deficiencies. Either one would have been disquieting in the extreme, but together they were absolutely damning. Giles deserved neither Willow’s respect nor her love. For a brief period, he had allowed himself the beautiful delusion that there might be something there, something they could build together. But now, thinking of the lightness he felt in his heart with Willow made Giles grind his teeth in disgust.

He had been a fool, a selfish and pompous old fool who would end up hurting a person whom he cared for very deeply. Lying there, replaying the events of the last few days in his mind, Giles came to a decision: as soon as he was sufficiently healed, he would be on the first flight back to London.


	12. A Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his stay in the hospital, Giles returns home to face the reality of his indiscretions with Willow. Willow finds comfort with an unlikely confidante.

First thing the next morning, Willow punched in the number for Sunnydale Memorial.

“Hi, yes, I’m looking to talk to a patient. Rupert Giles, room 441.”

After a pause, Willow’s brow furrowed. “You’re sure?”

Another pause.

“Oh, yes, of course, thank you.”

According to the man on the phone, Giles had been released last night. _Why wouldn’t he tell me?_ she thought. _Even just a text message?_ Willow slowly paced around the kitchen, eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch by the handful.

_Maybe he’s avoiding us because he doesn’t want us to mothering him_ , she considered. In an instant, she decided that it must be so, and grabbed her jacket.

\------------

Twenty minutes later, Willow rang Giles’ doorbell, coffee and donuts in hand. She would be pleasant and helpful, she decided, not full of pity and sad faces. She had a plan on how to raise Giles’ spirits and take good care of him.

When Giles opened the door, Willow almost dropped their breakfast. Although she knew he wouldn’t be looking as fresh as a daisy, Giles looks positively gaunt. His eyes were full of malice and pain. He hadn’t shaved since before the fight in the cemetery. He barely looked at Willow before turning away and shuffling gingerly back into the house.

Trying to recover her footing, Willow offered, “Hey Giles, I brought you breakfast. I figured we could get all sugared up and watch some bad TV. I don’t know what’s on this early, but I bet we could find something to hate-watch.” She pasted a friendly expression on her face and waited for Giles to respond.

He didn’t. He sat delicately in a large armchair, obviously in tremendous pain. Just the effort to answer the door seemed to have taken a lot out of him.

“Giles,” Willow continued, concern creeping into her voice despite her best efforts, “have you taken your pain medication? Did they give you enough when you got released?”

“No,” he finally responded, his voice hoarse from disuse. “I haven’t taken any.”

“Oh, Giles, you must be in so much pain. Where’s the bottle? I’ll get you some, you can take it with your coffee.”

“No.” His simple refusal felt very final.

“O-oh, okay, if – if that’s what you want,” Willow stuttered. She had seen Giles upset, depressed, angry, frustrated, and in pain before. This was so much worse than all of those. Fear was rising in her heart.

“That’s what I want,” Giles responded, a mocking lilt in his voice.

Willow walked over to Giles and knelt on the floor, facing him. She looked up into his face. Although he didn’t look away, he didn’t meet her eyes either. He seemed to be looking through her.

For his part, Giles kept waiting for the numbness to set in. When he had been tortured by Angelus, the pain had been excruciating, physically and emotionally. Before his eventual rescue, the greatest relief was the moment when his body began to shut off his pain receptors. He simply couldn’t feel anything anymore. He assumed, probably correctly, that he had been close to death at that point. He wouldn’t have particularly minded dying; he wouldn’t have minded anything. There was nothing left to feel. He was numb.

All last night and into this morning, Giles waited for the numbness. He was livid with himself and conscience-stricken in the extreme. His self-loathing and anger kept growing. He knew, he knew that the feelings would become too much and he would go numb. He expected it any moment. Then Willow arrived.

As he looked down at her there, kneeling on the floor and looking up at him with such open concern, he reached a new level of hell. All she wanted to do was care for him and be with him. And he was about to break her heart.

“Willow,” he said, “I need you to understand something.”

“Okay,” she replied, cautious.

“When I approached you in the training room that first night, and later when I revealed my feelings for you, that was a mistake.”

Willow’s heart sank. Her shoulders fell but she said nothing.

“I was selfish and crude and disgusting and lecherous. I’m an old man giving into sick fantasies and I can’t do it anymore,” he said, his voice a barely-restrained monotone.

“Giles, no,” Willow pleaded, trying to comfort him, to make him stop. She lifted up off her haunches, leaning forward on her knees to be face to face with Giles. Her hands came up to his whiskered cheeks. She leaned in to kiss him, but he turned away. “Giles,” she gasped painfully.

“I am not who you thought I was. I can’t help you.” He stared at the floor, his head still turned away from her. He would have liked to get up and walk away, but he wasn’t sure he could actually do that.

“Giles, why are you doing this? I love you,” Willow begged. Tears began falling down her cheeks.

“No, you don’t,” Giles responded, his tone taking on that of a lecture. “You had a crush on me, and I used that to get what I wanted. You needed support and guidance and companionship, and I saw an opportunity. I’m not a good person, Willow.”

“I don’t believe that. I refuse to believe that.”

“That’s the benefit of facts,” Giles replied. “They don’t have to be believed in order to be true.”

Willow stood up, her grief shifting into anger. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to tell me that you love me and make me feel like this and then take it all away because you feel bad. You don’t get to decide this.”

Giles finally looked up to meet Willow’s eyes. “Actually, yes I do. And I’m telling you Willow, I don’t want you.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this!” Willow shrieked, her hair beginning to darken in splotchy patches of black. She could feel herself losing control and she wasn’t sure that she cared. “I trusted you. I gave myself to you. And now you’re throwing me away like garbage!”

“I’ll help you find someone to support you in your work with magic, of course,” Giles offered lamely.

“Fuck you, Giles,” Willow spat, and stormed out the door.

\---------------

Willow made it as far as the street before she doubled over and wretched. She collapsed onto her knees and was racked with heaving sobs. Her hair began to return to normal as she wept.

An hour later, completely cried out and feeling entirely lost, Willow walked up the stairs to Xander’s apartment across town. Retrieving the spare key from her purse, she knocked and opened the door.

“Xander, you home?” she called, her voice still shaky.

The shades were all drawn. A voice called from down the hall: “Nope.”

Willow walked into the living room to find Spike slouched on the sofa, channel-surfing. Dressed in his usual black t-shirt and matching black jeans, his dyed-blonde hair was meticulously gelled back from his forehead. She hurriedly wiped her face. “Oh, is he at work?”

“Yeah.” Click. Click.

“Oh – okay. Okay. I’ll just – okay.” She turned around, heading for the door.

“Red? What’s up?” Spike sat up and swiveled around to face Willow. He seemed genuinely concerned, an expression Willow did not readily associate with the vampire.

“Nothing,” she lied, “I’ll just come back later."

“Well, Xander’s not going to be back for a while. He’s got some out-of-town presentation thing and he said he wouldn’t be back until late.”

“Oh,” Willow replied. For a moment, her expression was neutral, then she dissolved into tears.

“Oh god,” Spike stated, his eyes wide with fear. He had no idea what to do with this inexplicably weeping girl. After a moment, he got up and went over to her. Tapping her on the shoulder, he offered weakly, “There, there.”

Willow covered her face with her hands. She really, really didn’t want to be crying in front of Spike, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She wanted to sit down.

Resigned to having a breakdown in front of a vampire, she stalked into the living room and plopped onto the couch. Spike sat down on the other end of the sofa, eyeing the witch warily.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, not particularly keen on getting involved but not willing to send Willow away like this. He had always had a soft spot for her, the same way he had always appreciated Joyce Summers. He wasn’t sure that Willow exactly liked him, but she always treated him with respect, and he valued that about her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Willow said through tears.

“Well, isn’t that why you come over Xander’s? To talk?”

Willow stared at Spike for a moment.

“Oh, right,” Spike nodded, “Xander, not me.”

“Nothing personal,” Willow shrugged, her tears beginning to dry up again.

Spike sat there, awkward and unsure what to do. “Well, uh,” he began, “ _Passions_ reruns come on in a bit if you want to stick around for that.”

“Huh? Oh, no thanks. I should probably just head home. Besides, that Timmy doll thing freaks me out.”

“Yeah, no kidding, he gives me the willies,” Spike confessed, shivering for effect.

Willow continued to sit. She brought her hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail distractedly.

“Come on, Red, out with it,” Spike demanded.

Willow sighed and shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Fine,” Willow said, rolling her eyes. “It just seems like, whenever something good happens, whenever I get a tiny bit of happiness in my life, that’s when it gets ripped away.”

Spike turned off the TV. “Yeah, well, that’s life, innit? You’re not allowed to enjoy anything because in two seconds, it’s gone.”

“Yeah!” Willow agreed. “But the crazy thing is, I’m not even sure that I’m that mad about it, because who am I to get to enjoy the good stuff? I’ve been pretty horrible to people and done some awful stuff, so why should I get to be satisfied? What have I done to deserve that?”

Spike could relate to that. His recently-reacquired soul made him seriously question his worth, and although he felt driven to pursue what he wanted, he also was pretty sure he didn’t deserve anything.

Spike sat up straight. “Well, you helped Buffy loads of times. You fought demons and did spells. Hell, you even raised Buffy from the dead, so as far as I’m concerned, all the slay-age since then is on your account,” Spike asserted, trying to sound supportive. “You’ve always been the backbone of the team. You and Giles.”

Willow burst into fresh tears and Spike blanched. “Oh Jesus, not again.” He leapt off the couch and went into the kitchen. After a few moments of drawers opening and closing, dishes and things clanging around, Spike returned with a pint of ice cream, a box of cookies, and a box of tissues. His face was contorted with a mixture of discomfort and disgust. For all the sensitivity he had had as William, he still had no idea what to do with a crying girl.

Seeing the bounty of mood-enhancers Spike had brought over, Willow had to laugh. She grabbed a tissue and mopped her face, sniffling a little but otherwise recovering. “Thanks, Spike. Though I don’t know if I could eat right now.”

Spike resumed his position on the couch and turned to face Willow, his back resting against the arm of the sofa. “Listen, we could speak in generalities all day, but I’ve got a date with rerun soaps in an hour.” He tilted his head down and looked up at Willow, as if examining her critically over the tops of glasses that weren’t there. His look was stern, but playfully so.

“Spike,” Willow sighed, “I appreciate your willingness to listen, really, I do, but I don’t know if I can talk about this stuff with you. I don’t even know if I could talk about it with Xander. I just didn’t know where else to go. My feet just kind of took me here after I left Giles’.”

“What happened at Giles’ place?” Spike asked.

“Nothing,” Willow answered, her defensiveness evident.

“What happened at Giles’ place?” Spike repeated, his voice insistent.

Willow was surprised to find that part of her actually wanted to tell Spike. He had always been a shockingly good conversational partner. Even so, this was a lot to reveal to a vampire who had been more than a little unscrupulous when it served him in the past.

“Listen, no offense, but why should I pour out my heart to you?”

Spike shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m told I’m not very trustworthy.” He took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, then thought better of it. Xander hated it when he smoked in here, and it wasn’t worth it for the fight they’d have later.

“Exactly,” Willow stated, nodding her head firmly.

“On the other hand, I get the impression that this isn’t something that Buffy or even Xander would be happy to hear. You might be stuck with me, love.”

Willow stared at the wall for a moment. “How do I know you won’t tell?”

“Well, you don’t, not really. But I can tell you that I have no interest in revealing your secrets or mucking up your precious Scooby mojo. I’m trying to play nice. You know, re-ensouled, fighting for the forces of good, so on and so forth. I don’t have anything to gain by pissing off the Slayer. Or a powerful witch, for that matter.”

Willow scrunched her mouth over to one side, considering Spike’s words.

“You know how Giles has been helping me recover from my magic overload killing spree last spring, right?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, we kind of fell in love with each other, and things started to get…romantic this week, and this morning he told me that he’s old and horrible and doesn’t want to see me anymore.” Willow’s voice came out exhausted and pained. She swallowed, trying to keep from crying again.

“You and…Giles and you?” Spike gave up any pretense of neutrality on the subject. “You and Giles? That bookish knob with the very uncomfortable bathtub?” Spike’s voice shifted to one of wonder. “Giles and you, together, like…together together.”

Willow’s cheeks burned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. This is fucking stupid.”

Willow’s language caught Spike off guard, and he stopped gaping at her revelation. “No, no,” he insisted, trying to get a handle on the news. “I’m sorry, Red, I’m just surprised. I never saw that one coming. He’s twice your age.”

“You’re, like, ten times Buffy’s age.”

“I see your point.”

“I just…I don’t know what to do. Xander suspects something but I haven’t told him. Buffy has no clue. But I’m going to have to say something because it’s not like I can go be around Giles now, acting like things are normal.” She blew her nose into a tissue and crossed her arms in front of her protectively.

Spike shook his head, dazed. “So, wait. When you say that things ‘got romantic’, does that mean you…and he…did you…?” Spike made a rude gesture in which his index finger went through a circle formed by his other pointer finger and thumb. His expression implied scandalized curiosity with a thick layer of incredulity.

“That’s none of your business!” Willow scoffed, punching the vampire’s arm. “Also, no,” she added petulantly.

“Well then what sort of romantic? Come on, love, the most exciting part of my day is re-watching episodes of a paranormal soap opera.“ Spike threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Besides, you already told me the juiciest part. This is just the filler.”

Willow pursed her lips and looked doubtfully at Spike. She knew he was pumping her for details, but it felt good to be able to vent and be totally open about everything. As gut-wrenching and embarrassing as some of this stuff was, she needed to talk about it.

“We got physical. That’s all,” Willow shrugged.

“Oh no, you can’t just tell me you ‘got physical’, I’m going to need more information than that. How did it all get started? Go back to the beginning. We have time.” Spike shifted and sat cross-legged on the couch, elbows on his legs, chin resting on his knuckles.

Willow heaved a sigh. “It’s not that simple. We didn’t just lock eyes and start making out. Giles was trying to help me solve a problem, and it just sort of…shifted.”

“You felt it move?”

“What?”

“Nothing, never mind. Please continue,” Spike urged her.

“It just kind of happened. We were working on my magic. I couldn’t control it.”

“So, what, Giles gave you a back massage and you could do spells again? It’s always the back massage. Classic porn trope,” Spike recalled wistfully.

“No, not exactly,” Willow said evasively. Spike’s eyes were locked on her with gleeful interest, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about this part.

“Well what, did it get weird? Is Giles secretly kinky? It’s always the quiet ones.”

“I really don’t know that I want to talk about that.”

“Listen, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. It doesn’t have to be some big secret, you know.”

Willow leaned back against the arm of the sofa, avoiding Spike’s eyes.

“I like it when a girl sucks on my earlobe. There, now you know something weird about me.”

Willow crinkled her nose. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

“Well fine, prude, point is that you’re not going to say something that shocks me. Whatever it is, I was probably doing it in 1895. Backwards.”

From her bag, Willow produced a printout of the BDSM study that Doctor Gruden gave her a few days earlier. She slapped it onto Spike’s lap as though she were revealing the winning hand in a poker game.

Spike picked up the papers and leafed through them, an eyebrow arched sharply. He said nothing, but eventually returned the papers to Willow with the slightest leer on his face.

“I knew it!” she cried. “I knew you’d make it weird! Oh, ‘it doesn’t have to be some big secret’ he says, and now you’re making this ‘Willow’s a secret sex monster’ face at me!”

Spike forced his face to become serious. “Willow, I don’t think you’re a secret sex monster.” He managed to hold a straight face for almost three seconds before he burst into a fit of irrepressible giggles.

“Stop it!” Willow screeched, grabbing a throw pillow off the couch and walloping the vampire with it.

“Oh, so you’re a top, then!” Spike accused through cackles.

“Shut up!” She lunged at Spike and bopped him hard on the nose, making him cry out in actual pain.

“Hey, I was only poking fun. You didn’t have to sock me,” Spike whined, holding his nose.

Willow’s expression immediately shifted to pity. “Oh no, Spike, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Then, as her feelings resettled, she added, “Hey, wait, I’m not apologizing to you! You were being a total jerk! I told you some really private personal stuff and you made fun of me for it! So I’m not sorry!”

Spike held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry, Red.”

Willow crossed her arms in a huff, turning to face the black TV instead of looking at the vampire. Spike turned to face forward as well. After a moment, he turned on the TV in time to catch the opening credits of _Passions_.

They sat and watched the first minute in silence. Spike picked up the cookies and took one for himself before offering them to Willow, who accepted wordlessly.

“So,” Willow began, “which one is the lady who got married to the creepy guy who was married to that other lady before?”


	13. Back into the Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow keeps herself rather busy in the wake of Giles' rejection.

Willow awoke the following morning with what could best be described as an emotional hangover. Her feelings had been hitting every extreme over the past week since her return from England, and she was paying for it. Her heart was still heavy from Giles’ rejection, and although she had felt better after talking to Spike, she was still feeling pretty blue.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Willow found herself sitting at the kitchen counter, leaning over her steaming mug of tea with her forehead in her hands. _I’m not moping_ , she told herself, _I’m meditating_.

Her phone started buzzing. It was the Magic Box. Willow hesitated, then picked up.

“Hello?”

“Willow, hello, it’s Anya.”

Willow rolled her eyes and let her shoulders relax. “Hey, Anya. What’s up?”

“I have excellent news. I would like to offer you employment here at the Magic Box.”

“Huh? You want me to work at the magic shop?”

“Yes. I don’t think you understand what a wonderful opportunity this is. You can make a great deal of money. Well, perhaps not a great deal, but at least the federally-mandated minimum wage.”

Willow looked down at her tea, skepticism and suspicion written all over her face. “Anya, why do you want me to work at the shop?”

“Well,” Anya admitted, lowering her voice from bubbly to practical, “Giles is out healing from his goring, and I can’t possibly work all of the hours required of me if I’m to maintain my vengeance work. I need someone to help around the shop, preferably someone who’s familiar with the items we sell and understands that I’ll have them tortured and killed if they steal anything.”

“Anya,” Willow replied, “I’ve never worked a register in my life. I don’t know anything about retail.”

Anya’s bright saleswoman voice returned. “That’s not a problem! I would be more than happy to train you. You could be hawking amulets and incense in no time!”

“Why me?”

“Well, everyone else we know is employed full time, except Dawn, and the government frowns on taking minors out of school to provide labor. You’re not doing anything.”

Willow shrugged to herself. “You make a fair point.” Willow rolled the idea around in her mind. She didn’t think she’d mind working at the Magic Box, but what would happen when Giles recovered? Would she continue to work there and have to work alongside him? She could barely imagine seeing him right now, much less having him as her boss.

“Willow,” Anya insisted, “say yes.”

“If I agree, it’s only until Giles gets back on his feet. Deal?”

“Agreed,” Anya granted.

“Okay,” Willow said doubtfully, “when do I start?”

“I can train you tomorrow! The Saturday crowd is always good for learning very, very quickly.”

“Alright, I can do that,” Willow agreed.

“Oh, one more thing,” Anya added. “If you turn evil again, or put any kind of spell on me, you’re fired.”

Before Willow could even reply, Anya added, “And no employee discounts.”

“Bye, Anya.”

\------------------

Saturday morning dawned grey and rainy. It had been four days since the fight in the cemetery and Giles had not said a word to Willow since he had dismissed her from his house on Thursday. She had vaguely assumed he would eventually contact her in some way, but there had been nothing. Torn between avoiding the issue, respecting Giles’ wishes, hating him with all her soul, and missing him desperately, Willow sat there on her bed staring at her phone with the texting app open.

Finally, after typing and deleting several versions of an opening salvo, Willow went with what seemed like a fairly safe option.

> How are you?

She cradled her phone in her hands for a few minutes, waiting for Giles to reply. Now that she had reached out, surely he would respond and they could at least talk, right?

Buffy shuffled down the hallway, still in her pajamas. “Morning, Wil.”

“Hey, Buffy. Um, have you talked to Giles recently? I texted him but he didn’t respond.”

Buffy scrunched her face into a look of concern and retrieved her phone. After typing for a moment and, a few seconds later, getting a buzz in returned, she replied, “Hrm, I wonder if he’s having tech problems with his phone. He got my message, at least. I’m planning to bring him brunch since he’s still not much for mobility right now. Wanna come?”

“Oh, no thanks, Buffy. I’m heading to the shop so Anya can train me on the register.” In reality, Willow had plenty of time to go visit Giles and was desperate to see him. But if he texted Buffy back right away, it meant that he was avoiding Willow intentionally, and that meant she had better stay away.

“Bummer. No rest for the capitalists, I suppose,” Buffy replied.

Willow shrugged. “That’s what Anya tells me.”

“Good luck register…ing. Retailing? Selling things,” Buffy eventually finalized.

“Thanks, I need it,” Willow responded. “And tell Giles…” she paused. “Tell Giles I said I hope he feels better soon.”

“Will do!” Buffy called, as she turned and headed to the shower.

Willow went back to staring at her phone. If Giles refused to answer her, that was fine. But if he was getting her messages, maybe she could at least communicate with him one-way.

> I wish you’d talk to me. I miss you and I’m worried about you. Please don’t shut me out.

She hit send, then forced herself to put her phone down and get ready for her first day at The Magic Box as an employee.

\---------------------

Across town, Giles stared down at his phone, the screen casting an unnatural glow over his worn face. A pair of tears streaked down his face, and he blinked the rest away. After a moment, he sighed and put down his phone without responding at all.

\---------------------

By Saturday night, Willow was zipping through checkout procedures and feeling pretty solid about working The Magic Box. Although her knowledge of witchcraft and mystical forces was rarely necessary for the work, it was nice to be able to teach budding witches a thing or two as they sought advice. The shop had been pleasantly busy for most of the day, and Willow was grateful for the distraction. Anya had been clear about the “no cell phones” policy for staff, but Willow had snuck a few glances at her phone and knew that Giles hadn’t messaged her back. She didn’t expect him to, but she had hoped she was wrong.

As the customers were beginning to thin in the minutes before closing time, Buffy popped by.

“Hey, how goes your adventure into commercialism?”

Willow smiled, standing up tall behind the counter. “I’ve had over 50 transactions today, and I only made a mistake in 15 of them. At least, as far as I know.”

Anya zoomed by, replacing stock on the shelves as soon as it was purchased. Her arms were full of crystals and other tchotchkes that had no supernatural value but made the shop a sizeable chunk of its profit. “She’s quite adequate for the position,” Anya reassured the pair, arranging the items carefully on the front display table.

“You hear that, Buffy? I’m adequate,” Willow announced with sarcastic pride.

“I’ve always said that about you, Wil,” Buffy replied.

Trying to sound as casual as possible, Willow pivoted, “Hey, how was Giles this morning?”

Buffy’s eyes widened a little and her mouth pulled into a grimace. “To be honest, he’s kind of a wreck.” Willow felt equal parts concerned and vengefully satisfied. “I mean,” Buffy continued, “his wound seems to be healing fine, and he’s definitely getting more mobile now, but he just seems to be having a rough time. I don’t know the last time he shaved, or showered for that matter. He seemed really distracted and distant, like there was something else going on. I asked him about it but he said there wasn’t anything to tell.”

“Do you believe him?” Willow asked.

“I don’t know. He’s always been kind of the ‘I can handle it, don’t worry about me’ type, trying to protect me from knowing too much or having to get involved in council business, stuff like that. But this didn’t really feel like that. I wonder if it’s personal. Do you know if he still has a thing with Olivia?”

Willow’s face contorted painfully for a split second before she was able to smooth out her features. She hadn’t considered that Giles might be seeing someone else or maintaining an existing relationship. She wondered if his decision to distance himself from Willow was because there was someone else. Clenching her teeth, she was surprised at how much even the possibility hurt her.

Willow was doing her best impression of the version of herself who wasn’t in love with Giles and hadn’t fooled around with him in the back room of the very store in which she was now working. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything about her in a while but it’s not that he would volunteer that kind of information,” she reasoned.

Buffy stared ahead of her, meditating on the issue. “Well, if he won’t tell us, we just have to let him figure it out on his own. At least, unless we can beat the information out of him. But until then, we’ll wait and see. Maybe he’s just having a rougher time with his injury than we realize.”

“Maybe,” Willow conceded.

The Slayer and the witch switched topics and chatted for a few more minutes, before Anya kicked them both out so she could close up. After some ice cream and reality TV at the house, Willow crawled into bed, surprisingly exhausted after a full day of working at the shop. Pleasantly worn out, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

\-------------------

After working another full day Sunday, Willow was looking forward to a less mercantile Monday schedule. She was set to meet with her former advisor at UC Sunnydale, then Xander was making her lunch back at his place. His primary work site for the time being was only a few blocks from his apartment, so he was treating himself to somewhat leisurely lunches that didn’t come out of a can. Willow hadn’t talked to Xander after her failed attempt to seek him out a few days earlier, and she wasn’t sure if Spike had said anything.

Before lunch, she had to meet with her old advisor. Given that the semester had been underway for a couple of weeks already, Willow wasn’t sure what would make sense for her as she prepared to re-enroll. Fortunately, the meeting was quick and relatively straightforward. Willow would be able to enroll for the current semester since the add/drop period hadn’t closed, but her advisor wanted her to start with half the normal course load for now. Willow agreed, and immediately signed up for Psych 250 and the Sociology course she had failed the previous spring. Her very first class would meet the following afternoon, shortly after her second appointment with Doctor Gruden.

Her morning errand done with time to spare, Willow decided to take the scenic route to Xander’s. As she strolled through the park, she wondered how her lunch would go. Had Spike said anything to Xander? Would she tell Xander what had happened between her and Giles? Would it even make sense to tell him if, in fact, she and Giles weren’t, well…anything? Or would it be even more important to tell him because she would have to explain why she and Giles weren’t speaking?

The questions swirled around in her head without any clear answers making themselves apparent. Before long, she arrived at Xander’s building and knocked at his front door. She had a spare key, but it was good form to knock.

“Come in!” Xander yelled.

Willow opened the door and stepped into the apartment, pulling the door shut behind her. To her surprise, Spike was sitting near the door, putting on his boots.

“Hey, Red,” he intoned gruffly.

“Spike, you headed out? Seems kinda sunny for you to be taking a walk,” Willow noted.

“Cigarette break. There’s a fair bit of shade out back if I time it right.” Spike lowered his voice conspiratorially. “As far as Xander’s concerned, I don’t smoke in here. Far be it from me to fail to keep up appearances, eh?” He stuck a cigarette between his lips and arched his eyebrows at Willow for emphasis.

He stood up, shrugged on his leather duster, and stepped in close to Willow, his body barely an inch from hers. She tensed, looking up at him uncertainly.

He held her gaze for a long moment, then reached just past her and gripped the doorknob. “’Scuse me,” he said quietly. Willow stepped backwards, more as a response to the intimacy of his voice than to the nature of his request. Spike slipped past her and out the door.

Willow shook off the unusual encounter and stepped into the kitchen. “Hey, Xander. What’s for lunch?"

Xander stood at the oven, peering through the door at the tray of food within. “Well, it’s either pizza rolls or takeout. We’ll find out in a minute,” he replied.

Willow perched on a nearby stool. “How’s the work site? What’s this one again?”

“Condos,” Xander responded. “You know, you’d think people would want to avoid living on the Hellmouth, but they just keep lining up for the privilege.”

“We live here,” Willow retorted.

“Well yeah, but…” Xander’s brows scrunched together. “We…we fight evil. We’re here on purpose.”

“You go right on telling yourself that,” Willow affirmed, her tone playfully mocking. “Face it, Xander. We’re Hellmouth townies.”

For a moment, he looked disheartened at the revelation, but then the kitchen timer dinged. “Lunch time!” he cried excitedly.

\---------------

As Xander and Willow jointly washed the few lunch dishes, Spike returned from his leisurely cigarette break. He actually looked a little disappointed to see that he had missed lunch, but Willow shot a glance over at the table, where a napkin with a handful of pizza rolls lay. A look of pleasant surprise washed over the vampire’s face before he returned his expression to the fixed coolness he tried to affect at all times. He grabbed the napkin off the table and popped a pizza roll in his mouth.

“Ain’t you gotta be heading back to work?” Spike drawled at Xander.

“Listen, Evil Dead,” Xander began, then he caught a glimpse of the clock. “Oh, crap.” He hurriedly kissed Willow on the cheek, then fled from the apartment. “Bye Wil!”

“Bye!” she called after him, but he had already gone.

Willow finished rinsing off the last plate and placed it in the drying rack next to the sink. Spike shoved the last pizza roll in his mouth, then took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.

Willow turned and looked at him critically. “Really?”

He shrugged and put the cigarette back in the pack. “Alright, then. So what did I do to deserve pizza rolls?”

“Well, based on my conversation with Xander, you didn’t mention anything about me coming over the other day.”

Spike replied casually, “I said I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you did, and I appreciate that you kept your word.”

“Listen, Red, what you do is your business. It’s not my job to go spreading your personal stuff all over town. Besides, me telling Xander would require me to talk to Xander. I generally avoid that.” Spike sauntered into the living room and plopped down onto the couch.

Willow followed, standing next to the end of the couch furthest from Spike. “Hey, whatever the reason, I’m happy. So, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He clicked on the TV and put on _Passions_.

“Ooh,” Willow exhaled, moving to sit down, “what’s been going on with Alistair?”

“That git’s been mucking up everything. I’ve never been a huge fan of Theresa’s, but she doesn’t deserve this.” On screen, an imposing older man shoved a young woman into a bedroom and ripped her dress.

“Oh, god,” Willow cried in dismay. “What’s he going to do? He’s not going to…he wouldn’t, right? I know he’s bad, but…”

She looked over at Spike and noticed that his demeanor had changed. The fingers on his right hand gripped the arm of the sofa tightly. His jaw was set in a severe line, and he seemed to be staring through the TV rather than at it.

“Spike, are you okay?” Willow leaned a little closer, worry creeping up into her face. Spike didn’t move or respond.

Willow reached over and touched Spike’s elbow. Her touch jolted him and he jerked his arm away from her, meeting Willow’s stare. His eyes were wild, with deep sadness behind them.

“Spike, what…?” She had no idea what was going on and Spike’s distress was making her worry.

Barely audible, Spike muttered, “You should go.”

Willow furrowed her brow. “Why, what –“

“Please,” Spike urged, his voice thick with pain.

Taken aback by the abrupt change in him and his earnest pleading, Willow stood and turned to leave. A few steps away, she stopped herself, then turned around and went back to stand in front of Spike.

“Listen,” she said, “I know we’re not exactly best friends, and if you want me to leave, I will. But the other day, you listened to me and helped me feel better when I thought it wasn’t possible. You can talk to me, if you want.”

Spike stared in the direction of the TV and said nothing.

Willow grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. That finally made Spike look up at her.

“What is your deal, Spike?” Willow asked, concern mixing with confusion in her voice.

Spike held her gaze for a long moment. Willow was sure he wasn’t going to say anything, but after a long pause, he said, “You know, I knew that when I got my soul back, I’d have to deal with what I had done.”

He paused. Willow sat down next to him on the couch. “I knew,” he continued, “that I’d feel guilty about all the rotten things I’d done over the last 150 or so years. But it had been so long since I felt guilt or remorse that I wasn’t really prepared for it.”

As he spoke, Spike’s mind flicked through the images of the suffering he’d caused in his life as a vampire. Mostly, however, his thoughts went back to him on top of the Slayer in her bathroom.

“Oh,” Willow replied. “I can imagine how difficult it must be to try to process all of that at once.”

Spike let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, ‘difficult’, right.”

Willow curled her legs underneath her on the couch and turned to face Spike fully. “But…you seem to be doing mostly okay.”

Spike laughed mirthlessly and said, “Well I’ve got you fooled, then. Every night, I wake up and think that maybe this’ll be the night I leave. Maybe I’ll skip town, no goodbyes, just me and the highway. I could go anywhere.”

“Well yeah, but guilt isn’t limited to one place. If you went somewhere else, it would just follow you.”

“You’re right, I ‘spose, but I still feel like running. The only reason I don’t is because there’s a chance that Buffy might need me. That someday I might be able to make it up to her. It’ll never be enough, o’ course, but it paints a pretty picture.”

“You’re still in love with Buffy?” Willow asked.

Spike laughed again. “Not that it counts for anything, but yeah. But I’m not stupid enough anymore to think that anything will ever come of it. I’m just a lovesick pup and she’s too kind to put me out of my misery.”

“I don’t suppose that in your many decades of existence you’ve figured out how to stop loving someone,” Willow wondered.

“I ain’t found the secret yet,” Spike replied, putting a cigarette in his mouth, more out of habit than anything.

“Well, if you figure it out, let me know.”

“Come on, Red, you’re not still hung up on the Watcher, are you? I mean, I know you appreciate the bookish types, but you’re young and beautiful. You could have any bloke you wanted. Or any girl, for that matter.”

Willow felt oddly pleased by Spike’s assessment of her. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.”

Spike’s eyes stared wistfully off at the black TV screen. “I know what you mean.” He discarded his unlit cigarette absentmindedly.

Willow cast her eyes down at her hands in her lap. She was feeling alone, rejected, cast aside. “When I first realized that Giles had feelings for me, I felt like I was finally anchored somewhere. Like my feet were on the ground and I was okay. Now, I’m just…adrift. I feel like I’m floating around.”

“If you look at it another way, that means you’re free. You could do whatever you wanted. You’re not tied down.” Spike and Willow recognized the double entendre at the same time, causing the vampire to smirk and the witch to blush.

“I don’t know what I want,” Willow sighed, “well, besides…” She let her voice trail off, not willing to finish that thought.

“Besides what?” Spike cocked his head to the side and turned to face Willow.

Willow shot a significant glance at Spike and recreated his rude gesture from the other day, her finger poking through a circle formed by her other hand.

“Oh, you were serious? You and Giles never, uh…sealed the deal?”

Willow just shrugged and avoided Spike’s eyes. “And now we won’t. He won’t even text me back. I don’t know if he’s ever going to talk to me again.” Her voice broke and she swallowed, trying not to cry.

Spike’s spine stiffened as he sensed the girl becoming upset. Slightly spooked, he leaned over and laid a gentle kiss on Willow’s forehead. She jerk up, startled. “What was that for?” she asked.

“I hate seeing a girl upset over an idiot. Which Giles clearly is, since anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Willow’s expression softened. She had seen Spike’s sensitive side before, but he was really endearing himself to her with his tenderness. He still had pieces of his human self in there, somewhere.

“Thanks, William.”

Spike looked into Willow’s eyes, startled. She had never used his human name before. He liked the way she said it. He found himself wanting to kiss her again.

He moved closer to Willow. His voice barely a whisper, he said, “Call me that again.”

Willow’s body tensed. She felt something coming off of him, just as she had when he had brushed past her on his way out earlier that day. She wanted to be closer to him.

“William.” She brought her hand up to his face. Before she could touch his cheek, he snatched her wrist. In the same moment, he moved towards her, capturing her mouth with his. While their words might have been gentle and measured, their kiss was not. Spike pressed himself into Willow, wrapping his arms fully around her. Willow’s hands wound around his shoulders, feeling the muscles bulging underneath his black t-shirt.

“This is bloody stupid,” Spike groaned as he buried his face in Willow’s neck and kissed her all over.

“Extremely,” Willow agreed, untucking her legs so she could wrap them around the vampire. She knew his skin would be colder than a human’s, but it still surprised her to feel the relative coolness of his lips on her warm flesh. She pulled Spike towards her, wanting him closer, closer.

Lying back on the couch, Willow put her hands on the back of Spike’s head to draw him into a deep kiss. He obliged, then grasped both of Willow’s wrists in one hand and shoved her arms over her head, pressing them into the seat of the couch. He was fully on top of her them, her legs around his waist and her dress riding up to her hips. She arched her back, cooing softly. Spike growled, a hint of the demon simmering below the surface.

Spike released Willow’s wrists and she used one arm to push against the back of the sofa, causing the pair to roll onto the floor with a thud. Ignoring the ache of the fall, Willow pulled Spike’s shirt over his head and threw it across the room. Cradling his neck in one hand and exploring his torso with the other, she elicited a groan of enjoyment from him. Her mouth tasted his chest, his neck, and eventually found its way to an earlobe.

“Oh, fuck you,” Spike growled, equal parts delighted and rueful that he had admitted his weakness to the witch.

“That’s the idea,” Willow replied, grinding down onto Spike’s pelvis. She surprised even herself with her licentiousness, but she was brimming with backlogged sexual energy. After the pain of Giles’ rejection, Willow was intensely aroused by the simple fact that Spike wanted her. It was the textbook definition of a rebound, but she didn’t care.

Even through his jeans, it was clear he was ready for her. Spike reached up and pulled Willow’s dress over her head, revealing a pair of small, perky breasts unencumbered by a bra. He sat up and dipped his head down, tasting her nipples, which stood at full attention.

Willow let out a soft moan, grinding into him more eagerly. The vampire flipped them over again, Willow with her back on the floor and Spike alongside her, leaning over her. With one hand, he pulled her underwear down to her knees, then began teasing her. His fingertips lightly grazed her thighs, her hips, her small tuft of pubic hair, but he refused to go further.

“Spike,” she whined.

“No,” he replied firmly. “Not that name.”

Willow looked up into his eyes. “William,” she breathed. “William, please.”

He obliged her, running a single finger between her wet lips, delicately stroking her clit. She arched her back and inhaled sharply, an involuntary moan escaping her lips. He increased his pressure and pace little by little, drawing gasps and groans from the witch. As she writhed below him, he watched her intently, savoring the sight before him.

He pulled his hand away and received a groan in return. “Patience, pet,” he replied, “it’s not time yet.”

He stood and removed the rest of his clothing, revealing a muscular body and a sizeable cock. Willow greedily drank in the sight of him. Rising to her knees, she moved her mouth to him, licking and sucking him eagerly. He grunted her name, knowing that he was already getting close to the edge. He worked his fingers into her hair and, with some reluctance, gently pulled her away.

Spike sat down on the couch and crooked his finger at Willow, pulling her to him. He brought her onto his lap, then positioned her over his throbbing erection. She sank slowly, taking all of him. Jolts of electricity shot through her as she burned from the inside. It would not be long now.

She gripped Spike’s shoulders and pulled him close to her. Her nails dug into his flesh and he grunted in pain, but she didn’t care. They began to move faster and faster, the urgency rising. Feeling as though she would burst, she whispered, “William,” and that was all it took. She could feel Spike coming inside her and she fell over the edge herself, writhing atop him as the sensation traveled throughout her body.

Willow’s face rested in the crook of Spike’s neck as they came down together. After a moment, she sat up, caressed his face tenderly for an instant, then got up and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. When she came out, Spike was already dressed and had gathered up Willow’s clothes for her. She accepted them with a smile and began to put them back on.

Spike stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans. “Hey, uh,” he began, “so…”

Willow smiled affectionately and waved her hand in the air as if shooing away a fly. “Yeah, I know, just between us, one-time thing, never again. I know.”

Spike pressed his lips into a line. “Yeah.” After a moment, he said, “But, you know, I still respect you. I don’t want you to think that I think any less of you or anything.”

Willow laughed. “Don’t worry, Spike, I’m fine. Are you fine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, good. I’m going to head home.” Willow grabbed her bag and headed for the door, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Thanks.” She paused. “William.”

Spike smiled at her as she walked out the door.


	14. The Power of Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander presses Willow to tell him what's been going on, and he seeks to have a word with Giles.

The next morning, Willow walked into Doctor Gruden’s office very grateful that the appointment was scheduled today. After the events of the past week, Willow was feeling a hundred different things and needed a way to talk through them. Doctor Gruden – Dana – was the only one who knew enough to understand Willow’s problems while still being impartial.

“Hi Willow, so nice to see you again,” Dana greeted her warmly.

“Hi Dana,” Willow replied.

“Well you’ve got a look that says you’ve got things you need to get off your chest, so let’s get right to it.”

Willow smiled, relief evident on her face. “Thanks. I really do.”

For the next twenty minutes, Willow ranted and raved and laughed and cried about everything that had happened in the past week. Her blossoming romance with Giles, the sudden uptick in her magical control, the fight in the graveyard, Giles’ surgery, his rejection of Willow, her new job at the Magic Box, her upcoming college class, and finally, her unexpected transgression with Spike – she laid everything bare in the hopes of purging some of her guilt and gaining insight on how to proceed in her life.

“I mean,” she concluded, “I know Giles and I aren’t together, but it still feels like a cheated on him.”

“Do you think you’ll tell him?” Doctor Gruden asked.

Willow laughed ruefully. “Well he’d have to talk to me first. He hasn’t said a word to me since last Thursday, not even over text.”

“You said he’s still recuperating from his injuries at home, yes?”

“Yeah, he can’t really get around very well.”

“Have you tried going over to speak with him at his house?”

Willow’s expression darkened. “I don’t know if I could do that.”

“Why not?” Dana asked

“You don’t know, Dana, you don’t know how he looked at me. He stared right through me, like I wasn’t even there. I don’t know if I could do that again.”

“Have you talked to your friends about any of this?”

“Oh, no way. I can’t.” Willow shook her head, then swept her hair back with both her hands. “That’s off the table.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I have class after this. That’s basically as far as I can think ahead.”

“Well, class is good; what course is it?”

“Psych 250: Human Behavior,” Willow replied.

Dana smiled. “You know I approve. Have you taken psychology courses before?”

“Yeah, I took intro to psych a couple of years ago, but it turned out that my professor was kind of mad scientist working for a secret government organization. Great lecturer, though.” Willow shrugged.

“I hope you enjoy it. I really do think you have an aptitude for it.”

Willow smiled warmly. “Thanks, Dana.”

Before long, the session ended and Willow headed to class feeling a little less overwhelmed than she had before.

\------------------

There was something comforting and normal about attending a class. Although Willow had enrolled in the course late, she had purchased the books several days earlier, and was, unsurprisingly, nearly caught up. Her professor, a squat older man with tufts of salt-and-pepper hair at his temples, welcomed her warmly to class and encouraged her to come to him with questions any time.

Over the course of the two-hour lecture, Willow lost herself in scribbling down notes and participating in discussions. She was in her element, and felt a sense of what Doctor Gruden had identified as the thing she was missing: control. As she walked out of the classroom, she actually felt okay.

Grabbing a sandwich from the campus food court, Willow headed over to The Magic Box. She was scheduled to work at 3 and didn’t have much time to spare. She walked towards Sunnydale’s quaint downtown area, turning up her coat collar against the slight chill in the autumn air.

Entering the shop, Willow saw Anya ringing up the one and only customer in the place. As the customer left, Anya came around from behind the counter and patted Willow on the arm. “Good luck!” she offered, then vanished into nothing. Apparently Willow was not the only one scheduled to work an afternoon shift.

Taking her place behind the counter, Willow looked around her surreptitiously, then took her cell phone out of her bag. Still no messages. She opened up her conversation with Giles, which had been rather one-sided as of late. Over the course of her walk to the shop, she had decided she was going to tell Giles about Spike, but Giles would have to talk to her first. Knowing full well that it sounded exactly like her last five messages and would garner no response, she wrote a text anyway.

> Giles, I want to see you. We need to talk. Please talk to me.

Sighing at the futility of the exercise, Willow went back to manning the counter. After ten minutes of absolutely nothing, she pulled out her psych textbook and began her homework.

A few hours later, the bell over the door chimed and Xander entered the store. Supremely grateful for the distraction of a good friend, Willow slammed the textbook closed. “Hey, Xander!”

“Hiya, Wil. How’s business?”

Willow blew out a breath. “Well, you’re the second person I’ve seen come in since I got here, so it’s not exactly a bustling enterprise. Apparently everybody comes here on the weekend.”

“Hey, that means you could probably just close up for the night and no one would be the wiser. Shall I liberate you from your commercial torment?”

Willow smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m headed over to Giles’ place to bring him some dinner and check up on him. Buffy said he wasn’t looking too hot last time she went over, so I want to make sure he’s doing alright.”

Willow’s face went pale and she tried not to look as distressed as she felt. Xander, however, wasn’t buying it.

“Okay, Willow, what’s the deal? You’ve been super weird about Giles since the cemetery and as much as I don’t really want to know, I’m asking. What’s up?”

Willow leaned on the counter with her elbows and put her head in her hands. “Xander, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Wil, it’s me. We don’t keep things from each other. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Still leaning on the counter, Willow looked up at Xander skeptically.

Xander crossed his arms. “Think about all of the dirt you have on me. The Aquaman underpants. The bologna incident. The overnight field trip in 6th grade. You’ve seen me in a speedo.” He paused, his eyes meeting hers. “We trust each other, right?”

Willow sighed, feeling her emotions welling up inside her. Her eyes swam with tears, and Xander moved behind the counter to hug his friend.

“Xander, if I tell you, you’re going to think I’m a bad person.”

“Willow,” Xander replied, a note of surprise in his voice, “you know I won’t.”

Willow rested her head on Xander’s chest, trying to find the words. “I’m…” she started, then stalled out.

Xander rubbed her back comfortingly. “’I’m’ is good. ‘I’m’ is a start.”

Willow smiled weakly for a moment, then the tears came. “Xander, I’m in love with Giles.” The words hung in the air. She had expected to feel relief at finally saying them, but instead, the knot in her stomach only tightened.

Xander held his breath for a moment. “Well,” he began, “haven’t you kind of been in love with him since 10th grade?”

“No, no,” Willow shook her head, pushing back from Xander’s embrace. “I don’t mean that I have a crush on him or that I like him or that I think it’s cute when he cleans his glasses.”

Xander crinkled his nose but said nothing.

“I mean,” Willow continued, “that I’m in love with him. And he feels the same way about me.”

Xander’s eyes went wide and he turned away, pacing around the empty store with his hands on top of his head. Despite it making zero sense, Xander’s first impulse was to go to Giles’ house and kick his ass. He even got so far as walking toward the door before Willow called him back.

“Xander, please don’t leave. Don’t hate me.”

He stopped in his tracks, his anger evaporating. Turning around, he went back to Willow and hugged her tight. “I don’t hate you, Willow. I could never hate you.”

The witch broke down in Xander’s arms, grasping fistfuls of his flannel shirt in her shaking hands. As she sobbed onto his chest, Xander’s mind went from reaction to reaction with each passing moment. He was surprised that Willow was attracted to a man, though not totally surprised at her choice of man, then grossed out by the idea of Willow and Giles together, then furious with Giles for taking advantage of Willow. She had been so vulnerable and fragile since Tara’s death, and Giles should know better.

When Willow had calmed somewhat, Xander pulled back a little and looked down at her. “What happened?”

Willow sketched out the basic sequence of events for Xander, leaving out the more scandalous bits. “And since then,” she finished, “he hasn’t been returning my texts. I haven’t seen him since the day he got back from the hospital.”

The rage that Xander had felt at first returned to him as Willow told her story. “I can’t believe he would do that,” Xander growled. “He’s twice your age. He should know better!”

Willow, familiar with this line of reasoning, shot back, “Hey, I’m not a child and I’m not broken. I may be going through something really difficult, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I’m sick of people treating me like this passive victim, you and Giles – you think I’m so helpless and weak, that things just happen to me. I don’t need you threatening to beat up people on my behalf.”

Taken aback by her outburst, Xander’s eyes widened and he shook his head, backing up. “I’m sorry, Wil. I didn’t – I’m not – “

Willow let out an enormous sigh and plopped down into an armchair at the front of the shop. “Xander, I appreciate that you want to protect me. I know that you care about me and it bothers you to see me get hurt. But I don’t need you to fight battles for me, especially ones that have nothing to do with you. I’m telling you all of this because you asked me to, not because you need to do something about it.”

Xander sat down across from her. He could understand where she was coming from. Although he couldn’t stop himself from getting upset on her behalf, he needed to make the effort to let her work through her own problems her own way.

Taking an analytical tack, Xander asked, “What did you expect to happen when you started something with Giles? Did you think that you would move in together, get married, start a family?”

“I don’t know, Xander,” Willow spat, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I wasn’t trying to plan out my entire future. I just knew how I felt about him, and when he told me he felt it too, we just sort of…acted on it. It didn’t have to make sense, it just felt right.”

“Wil, back in high school, when you and I kissed at the factory, that felt right, too. But we both basically ruined our relationships. Cordelia wouldn’t even talk to me after that, and do you think Oz really forgave you?”

“Xander, this is different. I’m not in a relationship right now and neither is Giles. There’s nobody to hurt.”

“What about Buffy?” Xander voiced Willow’s secret concern, and she was furious with him for it.

“What about Buffy? Giles is her Watcher, but he doesn’t belong to her. She doesn’t get to decide if he has a love life, or with whom, for that matter.” Willow stood up, crossing her arms and walking back to the center of the shop.

“Oh, so you think your friendship with Buffy isn’t going to suffer because of this? Wil, even if you and Giles go back to being just friends and nothing else ever happens, the fact that you have feelings for each other is going to change everything. Do you think that you and Buffy aren’t going to have to deal with that?” Xander followed Willow, then moved to stand in front of her.

“Of course we will,” Willow grunted. “But excuse me if my primary concern right now is the eviscerating pain of rejection rather than the hypothetical future tiff I might have with my friend.”

Willow stalked over to the counter and started packing her stuff. “I’m closing up. This place is dead anyway.” She turned back to face Xander. “Thanks so much for listening. I’m really glad I opened up to you.” Her biting sarcasm was a poor disguise for her pain.

As she stormed past Xander, he caught her arm and spun her to face him. “Willow, wait. I’m sorry.” She allowed herself to be turned around but refused to meet his eyes. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “I begged you to tell me and now I’m yelling at you for it. You needed a friend and instead you got, well, a shitty friend.”

Willow’s eyes were swimming with tears but she said nothing.

“Do you want to beat me up a little? You know you could take me, and you’d probably feel better.”

Willow burst into fresh tears, and Xander enveloped her in his arms again. He felt like an ass, even if he knew there was truth to his concerns. Willow accepted his embrace and let herself soak the front of his shirt with her tears yet again. After a few moments, she breathed deeply and extricated herself from his grasp.

Xander looked down at his friend. “I love you, Wil. You’re my best friend. Nothing is going to change that, okay?” Willow nodded, doing her best to offer a smile. “Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’m just going to walk. The fresh air will do me good.”

Xander put his arm around Willow and together they exited the shop, locking up just as the sun dipped behind the buildings and night began to fall on Sunnydale.

\----------------

A half hour later, Xander was standing in Giles’ doorway holding a pizza.

“Hello, Xander,” Giles said apathetically, shuffling away from the door to resume his position on the couch. Xander had heard that Giles was in rough shape, but his anger at the Watcher almost dissolved once he saw how broken Giles really was. He came inside, shutting the door behind him and placing the pizza on the coffee table.

“Hey, Giles,” Xander replied, trying not to be too obvious in his concern. “How ya feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, knowing he wasn’t convincing anyone.

Xander scanned the apartment, noting an uncharacteristic dirtiness and an unpleasant smell. Old garbage. “You dig in, Giles, I’m just going to hit the restroom.”

Xander poked around the apartment, dismayed by the mess. It was very un-Giles. He stole into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag, then began collecting garbage from throughout the house.

Giles sat impassively on the couch, neither noticing nor caring what Xander did. He had finally achieved the numbness he had so desperately sought the week before, and with it came a total disinterest in the actions of others.

Once the trash had been put out back and the apartment smelled a little less ripe, Xander returned to the living room and sat down in a chair across from Giles. “So, what does the doctor say about your prognosis? Is the Watcher going to be Watch-ready soon?”

“Yes, I’m to heal just fine,” Giles said dispassionately. “Another few weeks and I’ll be skipping around like a schoolgirl, to be sure.”

Xander sat back in the chair and took in Giles’ appearance. He had been the one to rescue the Watcher from Angelus several years back, but somehow Giles looked even worse today. The lines in Giles’ forehead were more pronounced, and his salt-and-pepper stubble only served to accentuate a gaunt face. Xander noticed a prescription pill bottle on the table and saw that it was still full.

Xander leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Giles,” he said, “I know about you and Willow.”

For the first time in days, Giles felt something. He looked over at Xander, his serious expression set firm but his eyes wild. He said nothing.

“She didn’t want to tell me, but I guilted it out of her. She’s a mess, Giles. And obviously you are, too. Why don’t you just talk to her?”

In a low rasping whisper, Giles hissed, “This is none of your business, you stupid, presumptuous, meddling boy.”

“Yeah, well, it kind of is my business. Willow is my best friend. And when somebody hurts my best friend, I take issue with that."

Giles placed his elbow on the arm of the sofa and brought his hand up to his forehead. His eyes closed, he rubbed his eyebrow with his index finger. “Get out.” He sounded exhausted.

Xander stood up, building a head of steam.

“Fuck you, Giles.” He pointed at the Watcher accusingly. Giles’ eyes, now open, flashed with malice. “You’re so high and goddamned mighty,” Xander continued, “and you act so noble, when really you’re just being a selfish prick.”

Giles stared at Xander, his jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“You pretend to care about people but all you really care about is how they can be useful to you. You waited for Willow to be vulnerable, you waited for her to need you, and then you swooped in to ‘rescue’ her.”

Giles’ hands gripped the sofa cushion, but he restrained himself. He knew Xander was waiting for him to respond, but he refused.

“You’re pathetic,” Xander grunted. “You sit here in your disgusting house all day, hiding from your problems. You wallow in your self-pity, refusing to take your pain meds as penance for your sins. I can’t believe I ever looked up to you.” In another time and place, Giles might have been flattered by Xander’s revelation of admiration, but not here, not now.

Xander’s voice grew more vicious. “You don’t love Willow, you pompous ass, and you never did! You manipulated her to get what you wanted and now you’re discarding her because things threatened to get complicated. If you gave a single shit about that girl, you would have never said anything. But no, you pursued someone half your age, a girl who had trusted you since she was 16, and you did whatever you wanted with her. Did it feel good, Giles? Did it feel good to undress her and touch her, knowing you were just going to throw her out like garbage?”

“You shut your filthy fucking mouth!” Giles stood up quickly, wincing and swaying on the spot, but keeping his eyes trained on Xander. He stepped over toward Xander unsteadily.

Xander also moved toward Giles, challenging him. In a cruel whisper, Xander said, “Willow told me how you said you loved her. How you said you wanted to be with her. You would do anything for her.” He paused, staring into Giles’ eyes then stabbed his finger into Giles’ chest. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Giles took a wild swing at Xander, who ducked. Xander caught Giles before he fell over, then deposited him in a nearby chair. Giles seemed to collapse in on himself, his head in his hands as he wept. Xander sat down with a huff on the couch, emotionally exhausted. He hoped that goading Giles into this reaction would shake him out of his apathy.

After a few minutes, Xander leaned forward and said, “Giles, you have to talk to her.”

Giles stiffened slightly in the chair, as if he had forgotten anyone was there. After a moment, he replied, “I can’t.”

“I know it’s complicated and painful and it sucks, but you can’t just avoid Willow for the rest of your life.”

“On the contrary,” Giles responded, sniffling as he composed himself, “I most certainly can.”

“How are you going to be Buffy’s Watcher? How will you run the shop?”

“Buffy doesn’t need a Watcher. And Anya runs the shop just fine.”

“So, what?” Xander asked. “You’re just going to leave?”

Giles self-consciously wiped his face. “I think that’s the wisest course of action.”

Xander shook his head. “Giles, you can’t just leave. If you care for Willow, stay. Talk to her.”

Giles shook his head ruefully. “No, it’s best if I just go. I’ll only make her life worse by staying. Everyone will be better off with me gone.”

“You’re at least going to tell her, right? You’ll talk to her before you go?”

Giles looked over at Xander, his eyes sorrowful.

“Jesus Christ, Giles, you can’t just skip town without a word!” Xander was standing now, pacing around the living room. His agitation was not so forced this time.

“What will I say then, Xander? Since you seem to know so much? ‘Oh, hi Willow, sorry for breaking your heart and ruining your life, goodbye’?”

“That’s better than just disappearing!”

Giles ducked his head again, resting his forehead on his palms. He was growing dizzy and the pain in his abdomen was worse than usual. He was fairly certain he’d popped a stitch when he stood up. He tried to focus on his breathing.

Xander went into the kitchen and filled up a glass with water. He brought the glass and the bottle of medication to Giles, placing them on the table in front of him. When Giles said nothing, Xander walked over to the door.

“You’re a coward,” he muttered, then walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Giles remained still, his head in his hands, tears falling silently onto his lap.

\-----------------

Willow arrived home from The Magic Box to find Dawn and Buffy curled up on the couch. The inviting scent of popcorn wafted over to the witch. She had intended to head upstairs to be alone, but Dawn spied her and called her over.

“Willow! Perfect timing. He’s about to start the rose ceremony.” Dawn patted the couch next to her to entice Willow to sit.

Willow had never cared much for these matchmaking reality TV shows, but it was hard to say no to Dawn. As Willow got situated on the sofa, Buffy passed her the bowl of popcorn.

“We think he’s going to pick the blonde over the brunette based on past selections,” Buffy explained with a scientific air, “but there was hanky-panky on his date with the brunette.”

“Oh,” Willow responded, “so it’s really anyone’s game.”

“Exactly,” Dawn said. She grabbed a massive handful of popcorn, her eyes trained on the screen. They watched in silence for a few minutes, until the man on TV gave a rose to a brunette woman, who teared up and hugged him.

“I knew it!” Buffy exclaimed, gesturing toward the screen with an open palm. “Hanky-panky always wins. God, men are all alike. Willow, you’re lucky you switched teams; men are hopeless.”

Willow produced a strained smile that she hoped would be convincing. “Yep, that’s me, one lucky girl.”

Buffy seemed placated, but Dawn narrowed her eyes at Willow. She looked at the witch critically for a moment but said nothing.

“Hey, I had my first class today,” Willow offered, eager to change the subject.

Buffy turned to face Willow, ignoring the TV, which was showing the promo for next week’s episode. “Which class was today?”

“Psychology,” Willow answered. Dawn continued to shove popcorn in her mouth, clearly not interested in Willow’s academic life.

Buffy asked, “Did you notice any suspicious military activity? Was the professor, like, some kind of evil genius?”

“As far as I can tell,” Willow replied, “there is no sign of the Initiative or any other creepy army stuff.”

Buffy wiped her brow in faux relief. “Phew. Maybe this semester you can actually learn some psychology. Wait – is the TA cute? Cute TAs can be trouble.”

“Hideous TA. It’s perfect. I’m going to be so focused in this class.”

“Excellent,” Buffy replied. The Slayer lifted herself off the couch and raised her arms over her head in a big stretch. She yawned and lazily scratched her head.

“Going to bed?” Willow asked.

Dawn rolled her eyes at Willow. “Come on,” she said through a mouthful of popcorn. “When’s the last time you saw Buffy go to bed before midnight?”

“Yeah,” Buffy added, “as much as I’d love to call it a night, I have to patrol. Evil waits not for the tie-tie.” She walked over to the stairs and grabbed her coat of the banister, yawning again. Giving Dawn and Willow each a quick hug, Buffy reminded Dawn to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and with that, she was out the door into the chilly night air.

Willow turned away from the door and saw that Dawn was looking at her dubiously. “What?” she asked.

Dawn’s eyebrows lifted in an expression of skepticism. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Willow felt her stomach flip-flop.

“Okay,” Dawn replied, shrugging her shoulders. She turned and started walking up the stairs.

“Tell her what?” Willow repeated, but Dawn just kept climbing, eventually heading to her room without another word.

_Great_ , Willow mused. _Is there anyone who can’t read me like a book?_ Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and defeat, Willow trudged up to her room to distract herself with good old-fashioned homework.


	15. Look at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow confronts Giles and confesses her indiscretion with Spike.

It had been over a week since Giles and Willow had last spoken, and Willow was getting tired of radio silence. Her texts went unanswered, and although she was now far less confident in the chance for reconciliation, she at least hoped for closure. She knew he wouldn’t want to talk to her, but even so, Willow found herself outside of Giles’ house on Friday afternoon, ringing his doorbell.

After seeing the curtain move, Willow heard Giles call from within: “Go away.”

“No,” she called.

“Willow, I don’t want to see you.”

The words stung, but Willow clenched her fists and banged on the door. “I’m not leaving, Giles. I need to talk to you.”

“Keep your voice down. I have neighbors, you know.”

“Then let me in and I won’t have to shout!”

There was no response. “I slept with Spike!”

As if that had been the mystical password, the door swung open. She couldn’t see Giles, but Willow walked through the doorway and into the darkened room. The curtains were all closed and the lights were off.

Behind her, the door slammed shut. Giles was standing against the wall next to the door. “First you text me ceaselessly despite my very clear disinterest, and now you’ve come to my house shouting nonsense, trying to provoke me?”

“It’s not nonsense, Giles. Spike and I slept together.”

Wild jealousy and anger flared up inside Giles, but he quickly pushed those feelings aside. He was trying to prove his lack of affection for the girl, and that reaction would do just the opposite. He swallowed hard, then tried to affect a cool demeanor. “Well, that’s your right, I suppose.”

Willow was dumbfounded by Giles’ response. Had he really been lying when he confessed his feelings to her in the magic shop? Did he really not care?

“Giles, you’re being ridiculous. You can’t just avoid me forever.”

“Actually, I think I can. It was going rather well up until today.”

Willow gestured around her. “You call this ‘going well’? You’re brooding in your cave, refusing to face the world, and this is ‘going well’?”

“Don’t forget that I’m drinking, too,” Giles responded spitefully, taking a sip from his glass of scotch. He had hardly been sober since Xander’s visit a few days prior. He may have been shaken out of his preferred state of detachment, but alcohol was a surprisingly suitable substitute.

Willow threw her hands up in helplessness. “Giles, you can’t live like this.”

“Can too,” he retorted childishly.

Willow shook her head. “Are you seriously not going to say anything about me sleeping with Spike? That doesn’t bother you at all?”

Giles shrugged, doing his best impression of an indifferent person. “We’re not dating. If you want to be a slag, nothing’s stopping you.” Giles hated himself for speaking like that to Willow, but the words came out before he could stop himself.

“You’re such an asshole,” Willow rejoined. She crossed her arms across her chest. _Maybe it was a mistake to come here_ , she thought.

“Cheers to that,” Giles said, raising his glass, then downing the rest of its contents.

“I can’t believe I spent so much time nurturing my feelings for you and wishing that you loved me. I trusted you. I respected you.”

Giles rolled his eyes and plopped down sloppily on the sofa. “God, you sound like Xander.”

Willow walked over to Giles and crouched down, looking up at him. He refused to meet her gaze.

“Tell me,” Willow commanded. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

Giles said nothing, his eyes still averted.

Willow stood up, storming over towards the door. She turned back toward Giles and said, “At least Spike could bear to look in my eyes after he fucked me.”

Giles let out a guttural howl, throwing his empty glass across the room and shattering it against the wall. His chest heaving, he curled his hands into fists, staring down at the floor.

Stunned by his dramatic reaction, Willow stood rooted to the spot for a moment before approaching the Watcher.

“Giles,” she said, reaching out a tentative hand, her fingers grazing his arm.

“Don’t touch me!” he roared. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Willow recoiled. She had hoped to spur Giles to get angry enough to talk with her, but she hadn’t expected this. She had been a fool.

“Giles, I’m sorry,” Willow pleaded. “I just wanted you to talk to me. I needed to know if you cared about me.” She tried to hold back her tears, but it was futile.

Giles inhaled sharply, lifting his head up and wiping his face. Sobriety washed over him in an instant and the tension went out of his shoulders. “Well, you needn’t worry about that.” He carefully turned towards the kitchen and retrieved a dust pan. His movements were slow and controlled, a stark contrast to just moments earlier. He cleaned up the broken glass without glancing at Willow once.

After he disposed of the shards, Willow approached him, staring up into his face. “Please, Giles,” she begged. “Please just look at me.”

He did, and she immediately regretted asking him to. The look of rage, disappointment, and disgust cut her to the quick.

“Get out,” he whispered.

“Giles – “

“I do not like to repeat myself.” His voice was barely there.

Willow had to use all her will just to get one foot to move in front of the other. Her legs made of lead, she walked to the entryway.

She stood at the door, her hand on the knob. Without turning, she uttered, “If you think you can make me stop loving you, you’re wrong. Even if you don’t love me, even if you hate me, even if you never speak to me again, I’ll still love you.” She walked out and pulled the door closed. She leaned back against it, sliding down the door until she sat on Giles’ top step. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wept in silence.

Giles walked slowly over to the door, leaning on it with his forearm and pressing his other palm into the wood. He rested his forehead on his arm and breathed deeply, his face freshly wet with tears.

After a few moments, Giles picked his head up and walked across the room into the kitchen. He filled a glass with water and shook a pain pill from the bottle on the table. Sighing heavily, he popped the pill in his mouth and downed the glass of water.

Outside, Willow slowly picked herself up, brushing the dirt from her pants. She wiped her face on her jacket sleeve, then set her head high and walked away. From the window, Giles watched her go.


	16. Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Giles returns to The Magic Box, things come to a head.

Exactly 23 days and two hours later, Willow received a text from Anya.

Good news! Your forcible employment is hereby terminated

Willow replied:

> Huh?

> Giles is back at work, so your services are no longer required. Thank you for your help!

Dazed by the suddenness of the exchange, Willow said the only thing she could think of.

> You're welcome.

Willow had been scheduled to close that evening, but apparently now her day had opened up substantially. She pulled out her psych textbook and dug into next week’s homework. It never hurt to get ahead.

Buffy popped her head into Willow’s room, finding the witch on the bed surrounded by books and notes, as per usual.

“Hey Wil, Anya says Giles is back at the shop. I’m going to head over to welcome him back to the land of the living. Wanna come?”

Having anticipating just such a conversation, Willow supplied her ready answer: “Oh, no thanks, I’m totally swamped with my coursework. Maybe next time?”

Buffy shrugged. “Okey dokey. Don’t work too hard!” And with that, the Slayer was already on her way out.

Willow spent another half hour on her school work until she couldn’t concentrate anymore. _So, are you just never going to go back to the magic shop?_ she asked herself. _You’re never going to be around Giles again? The guy who’s your best friend’s Watcher?_

She got up and paced around her bedroom, feeling agitated. It was as though she had had a pebble in her shoe for weeks, but now the pebble was a giant boulder standing in her way. The last time she had spoken to Giles, she had said some horrible things to him, and he had been horrible right back. Maybe she shouldn’t love him anymore, maybe she should hate him, but she just couldn’t. She knew his anger came from a place of pain, and she hoped he understood the same thing about her.

Sighing heavily, Willow plopped down onto the bed and cleared her books and materials from it. She crossed her legs and rested her arms on her knees, closing her eyes. She pushed all the questions and worries from her mind, focusing only on her breathing. After a few minutes, she could feel her mind become still.

Opening her eyes, she looked over at the potted jasmine near the window. Gently reaching out with her will, she urged more life into the plant. Slowly, the vines began to grow, the white blossoms popping open all over the stalks. The room filled with the rich, familiar scent. She closed her eyes again and continued her meditation.

\--------------

Four more days past, and Willow had run out of excuses. She had avoided going to The Magic Box because of homework, tests, chores, therapy appointments, classes, exhaustion, and fake illnesses. Finally, Buffy marched into Willow’s room Thursday morning and announced, “You are meeting me at The Magic Box after I’m off work today. We have a vamp problem and I need your help. So take the night off from your studying and your panicking and whatever else you’re doing. Capiche?”

Before Willow could even consider a possible response, Buffy had marched right back out. Willow’s shoulders fell as she realized she was going to have to face Giles sooner or later, and it had suddenly become sooner.

Over the course of the next few hours, she allowed herself to think of all the reasons that it might be fine. Giles might not be working tonight. Or she could just face away from him the whole night and not look at him. Or she could get horrific food poisoning and spend the whole night throwing up instead of having to face Giles. Or maybe they’d get attacked by monsters and she’d be too dead to worry about anything.

Once she found herself considering that death might be preferable to an uncomfortable confrontation, she shook herself out of it and decided she would just deal with it. _Rip it off, like a band-aid_ , she told herself. Setting her mind to it didn’t quiet her thoughts, but it did allow her to focus and get through the first half of her day with relative calm. She attended her Sociology course, grabbed a late lunch with her study group, and hung around on campus until the lengthening shadows told her it was time to bite the bullet and head to The Magic Box.

When she arrived at the storefront, she peeked inside to see if the others were there yet. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Giles in the shop. Thankfully, Buffy and Dawn were already there. Willow tried to slip in quietly, but the bell over the door announced her entry just the same.

From their position in the shop, Buffy and Dawn couldn’t see the door. Only Giles, standing in the middle of the floor, looked over and saw Willow. He met her eyes, and the moment seemed to stretch out before them endlessly. Unlike his cold and vacant expression from weeks earlier, Giles’ eyes were ablaze. For a split second, Willow thought that he was going to run over to her and sweep her up in his arms, but he stood fixed to the spot, his eyes boring holes into her.

The intensity of his stare was too much, and she cast her eyes down. Giles had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he was afraid to tell her, but this was not the time nor the place. He tried to read Willow, to understand what she was feeling, but his own emotions colored his vision. He turned and placed the book he was carrying on the table where Dawn and Buffy were sitting.

After a moment, Willow forced herself to step forward into the shop, eventually rounding the shelf and announcing her presence to the Summers girls.

Dawn shot out of her chair excitedly and gave Willow a bear hug.

“Hey Dawnie, what’d I do to deserve this?” Willow asked, a smile coming unbidden to her lips.

“I aced it! My math test, the big unit test I’ve been studying for since, like, forever! You’re the greatest math tutor ever,” Dawn avowed breathlessly.

Willow hugged Dawn again, patting her on the back. “Hey, look at you! I knew you could do it.”

Buffy broke in. “I’m glad someone around here can be the geometry expert, because under my tutelage, Dawn would be wondering what all those funny shapes are.”

“Don’t worry, Buffy,” Willow retorted, “I’m sure you help Dawn with loads of stuff.”

“Yeah, last week you showed me how to stake a vamp from behind, remember?” Dawn offered.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure colleges really look for that well-rounded student who can kill a demon from any angle.”

Willow shrugged. “Angles are geometry.”

Just then, Xander walked in, trailing a very bored-looking Spike. “Hey guys,” Xander said, “sorry we’re late. Captain Peroxide here needed to preen himself for twenty minutes before we could leave.”

“Hey, you try getting your hair right without a reflection and we’ll see what you say then,” Spike retorted.

Giles, who up to this point had been standing over by the counter, straightened and fixed his eyes on Spike. Willow had envisioned a lot of ways that tonight could go horribly wrong, but it hadn’t even occurred to her that Spike might be joining them. This was a new level of awful.

Hoping to forestall the tension between Spike and Giles, or possibly just prevent the rest of her friends from noticing it, Willow initiated the usual shop talk. “So, Buffy, you said something about a surge in vamp activity in Sunnydale?”

Buffy turned her attention to Willow and took on an air of seriousness. “Right. For the past week or so, there have been way more vamps out on the town than usual. Like, ten times as many.”

As Buffy continued to report the details of her recent vampire encounters, Willow anxiously watched Spike and Giles. Spike affected an aura of coolness, as per usual, and crossed his arms over his chest. He met Giles’ eyes with his own steady stare, neither man willing to be the first to look away. Willow noticed that Giles’ fists were balled up, the knuckles bright white.

“And that’s why I asked Spike to come,” Buffy finished. “Hopefully his connections with the local vamps can give us some insight into what’s going on.”

Alerted by the sound of his own name, Spike turned to the group. “Uh, yeah, well I dunno what to tell you. There are definitely more fangers in town, but I haven’t heard anything that might tell us why. I don’t even have a whiff of a new big bad. Just me.” He winked roguishly in Buffy’s direction and she rolled her eyes in response.

Willow stole a glance over at Giles and saw that the tension in his body had relaxed just a little. She let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Wil?” The witch shook her head and looked over at Buffy, who had clearly said her name more than once. “Yeah, sorry Buff, what?”

“I asked if you would be up for some research tonight. I know you’ve been super busy, but it would really help us out. This is kind of an all-hands-on-deck thing.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Willow agreed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and trying to refocus. “Totally, I can do that.”

“Okay, Spike, you see what you can find out at Willy’s. Everyone else, let’s hit the books.” And with that, Buffy and the rest of the gang were off, vanquishing evil one ancient page at a time. Willow could swear that Spike winked at Giles before leaving the shop.

As the night of research got underway, Willow did her best to bury her nose in the densest, most impossible book in the shop. She was shaken out of her deep focus by the chinking of a teacup being placed before her. She looked up to see Giles looking down at her affectionately. The tea was exactly as she took it, exactly as Giles had prepared it for her a hundred times in England. After depositing the cup in front of Willow, Giles placed his hand on her shoulder for just a second, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning away.

Without any warning, Willow burst into tears. The loud sobs startled Buffy, Dawn, and Xander, who had been absorbed in their books.

“Willow, what’s wrong?” Dawn asked.

With effort, Willow swallowed and stifled her tears. “It’s nothing, Dawnie, I’m fine.” She looked over at Buffy, who was equally concerned. “Really, I’m okay. It’s just been a long day. My therapist says that it’s normal for this to happen sometimes, but it’ll be less and less over time.”

Buffy reached over and squeezed Willow’s hand. “You sure you’re okay? Do you want to go home?”

Willow returned the squeeze and shook her head, smiling feebly. “I’m sure, honest. I can stay.”

Xander’s attention throughout this exchange had been fixed squarely on the Watcher. Giles’ face was flushed and he was unmistakably rattled by Willow’s reaction. Xander watched as Giles turned away from the group and spent an inordinate amount of time wiping his glasses.

When Giles turned back around, he met Xander’s eyes. Xander said nothing, but clearly intended to remind Giles of their conversation weeks before. Giles averted his gaze, still trying to gather his thoughts.

_You did this to her, Rupert_ , he told himself. _You broke her heart and now you have to face the consequences of that._ He briefly wondered if he should have just left as he had originally intended, but a part of him knew that Xander was right, and it would have been an act of supreme cowardice to disappear like that. He had displayed enough weakness over the last month as far as he was concerned.

As Willow composed herself and everyone got back to their respective books, Giles watched the witch work. The way her hazel-green eyes soared over the page, her pupils slightly dilated as she devoured information. The way she absentmindedly stirred her tea with magic, lazily moving her fingers in the air to get the spoon to swirl in the cup. The way she chewed on her lip when the imperfect translation vexed her.

Over the past few weeks, he had thought of Willow and little else. After their fight at his home, he recognized that he was in over his head. The very next day, he had made an appointment to see Doctor Gruden, the same therapist who had been counseling Willow since their return to the States.

He hadn’t chosen Dana because of her association with Willow, but rather for the same reasons that Doctor Lane had referred Willow to her in the first place. Doctor Gruden was versed in the supernatural and had an excellent reputation. Giles had seen her half a dozen times and was starting to work through his own issues of self-loathing and guilt, much as Willow had.

Giles had also tossed out his liquor, cleaned up his house, and started to take better care of himself. Although his physician chided him for his poor post-operative care, Giles was following the instructions to the letter now, and was nearly healed. He would almost call his health “robust” if he didn’t have to take stairs so slowly.

As Giles watched Willow from across the shop, he wrestled with the same demons he’d been battling for weeks. At least now, after many hours of help, he’d come to see a simple truth: the least healthy part of his relationship – or whatever it was – with Willow was his own behavior in it. If they loved each other, if they wanted to be together, the greatest threat to their happiness was Giles’ own self-destructive tendencies. He felt a lot of shame in that, but perseverating on it wasn’t making anything better.

With Xander, Buffy, and Dawn all engrossed in their tasks, Giles quietly stole over to Willow. He hooked his finger under her chin and pulled her face up to look at him. He breathed, “I want to see you,” and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn’t want her to fall apart again.

Thankfully, Willow just gave a curt nod, then went back to her reading. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but at least she had said yes. Giles moved back over to the counter, cracking his own tome. Although his nerves were pulled taut and he was too anxious to do real research, he went through the motions for lack of a better alternative.

Over an hour passed and not a single thing had come to light since the beginning of the research session. Buffy growled in frustration and slammed her latest read closed. “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” she said, depositing the book on the table with a thud.

A feeling of relief swept over the group. Almost in unison, Dawn, Xander, Willow, and Giles all shut their books as well.

“Sorry, Buffy,” Willow offered, her mouth twitching to the side in an expression of dismay.

“Maybe Spike will find some info from the underground and give us something to go on,” Xander hoped.

“Maybe you’ll hear something out on patrol,” Willow added.

“Maybe we could go get ice cream?” Dawn suggested.

Buffy smiled skeptically at her sister. “Nice try.”

Xander leaned in conspiratorially. “Actually, I could really go for some ice cream.”

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Buffy agreed. She grabbed her bag and coat, waving goodbye to Giles. “You coming, Wil?”

Willow glanced over at Giles, who was studying the floor. “No, I’m going to hang here for a bit. I’ve had too much sugar today, anyway.”

Buffy and Dawn swept past Willow on their way to the door. Xander stopped next to his friend and squeezed her arm gently. Willow looked up into his warm eyes and smiled. He said nothing, but she understood. He was wishing her good luck.

With her eyes, she told him, _Thanks. I’m going to need it._


	17. Just Des(s)erts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Giles' reconciliation results in a heated exchange.

After the others had left the shop, Giles slowly moved toward Willow, trying to be measured in his movements. He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her passionately, but he didn’t think it would be wise. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to do it physically considering his recent recovery from surgery. And most troubling, he wasn’t sure that she would welcome it. He had hurt her – badly – and he didn’t know if she would be able to trust him again.

Willow crossed an arm in front of her and brought the other hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail. She saw Giles looking at her as he approached and she pulled her thumb away from her mouth, as if she had been caught doing something bad. She wrapped her arms around herself as though she were freezing.

“Willow – “ Giles began.

“Are you leaving?” she interjected.

Giles stopped in his tracks, a few feet from the witch. “What?”

“Are you leaving?” she repeated, her voice thick with pain. “Xander told me you said you were going to leave after you got better. And you’re better.” She sounded so young in that moment, so innocent. Nervously, her thumb went back to her lips.

Giles’ shoulders fell. Foolishly, he hadn’t considered that Xander would relay any of their conversation to Willow. “No, Willow,” he replied quietly. “I’m not leaving.” He hesitated. “…Unless you want me to.”

Willow shook her head, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She was trying to calm herself, but the more she tried, the more she felt herself spinning out of control. Seeing Giles again, Spike coming in the shop, the tea, the finger under her chin…it was all too much.

Giles crossed the distance between them and encircled Willow in his arms. He couldn’t stop himself; he needed to hold her. The dam burst and Willow let go. At first, the sobs were incoherent, but soon she began to talk to Giles, her voice muffled in his suit jacket.

“Why did you turn me away? You said you loved me, but you told me to leave. You wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t answer me.” Her voice shook violently, but she continued. “Why were you so mean to me? The things you said to me when I came to see you…”

Giles held Willow close. “I know, I’m so sorry. I’ve made so many mistakes, I don’t know where to start.” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. “I’ve been a prat. I took my self-loathing and my guilt out on you. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Willow sniffed. “You sound like Doctor Gruden.”

“Well, she’s the one who’s been helping me sort myself out, so I supposed it makes sense.

Willow pulled back a little and looked up at Giles. “You’ve been going to see Dana?”

Giles replied, “Yes, she really is quite good. You had such a good experience with her and Doctor Lane recommended her so highly, I thought I’d try to get some help. Is that…are you alright with that?”

“Did she tell you anything about me?” Willow whispered, afraid of the answer.

“No, no, of course not. She would never do that. It would be a violation of doctor-client privilege. She would never reveal your secrets to me, nor would she reveal mine to you.”

Willow exhaled. “Then I’m alright with it.”

Giles moved Willow out to arm’s length and looked her in the eyes. “Willow, I want you to know, I truly am sorry. I’ve been a right prick and an idiot to boot. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If you slapped me in the face and told me you never wanted to see me again, I would understand.”

“Shut up, Giles,” Willow whispered, and then she was kissing him, her arms wrapped around him, her tears dampening his cheeks.

He reciprocated, and walked them over to the counter, Willow hopping up to sit on the glass as she straddled Giles. He pulled her to him, having to tilt his head up to reach her mouth now that she sat so high.

“I don’t want to be without you anymore,” Willow breathed, pushing Giles’ jacket off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Giles gathered up Willow’s long skirt and pushed it up to her hips, revealing her bare legs. “I’ll never let you go again,” Giles promised, pressing himself to her and recapturing her mouth with his. Sliding his hands under her sweater, he explored the soft expanse of her back, then brought one hand around to caress her breast. He wanted nothing more than to take her here, right in the middle of the shop. He forced himself to step away from the woman he loved.

“No, not here. Not like this.”

Willow’s face contorted in pain. He voice came to him soft and bruised. “But Giles, I want you.”

His heart ached. “Willow, I want you, too.” He grasped her hand. “Let me take you to bed.”

His meaning clear, Willow smiled with relief and hopped down from the counter, her skirt cascading around her legs. She grabbed her things and followed him out the door to his car.

The drive over to his apartment seemed endless. Willow felt like a taut string waiting to be plucked. When they finally arrived, Giles insisted on opening the passenger side door and helping Willow out. She rolled her eyes at his outdated chivalry, but adored him for it nonetheless.

As she entered his house, Willow recalled the last time she had been there. Her hand went to her mouth involuntarily, covering it as she gaped. “Giles,” she breathed, “I said such awful things to you the last time I was here.”

Giles closed the door behind them and turned on a lamp. “No worse than what I said to you.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I had to look up what ‘slag’ meant, you know.” Willow’s mouth quirked into a wan smile.

Giles’ heart sank. He had been hurt by Willow’s confession about sleeping with Spike, and he had not responded with dignity and grace.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Giles said, placing his hand gently on Willow’s cheek.

“But I…with Spike…”

In the lamplight, Giles’ eyes flashed with pain and jealousy. “I’m trying to let go of that, Willow. I’m trying to be fine with it.”

Willow met Giles’ gaze, her own expression twisted with guilt and something else, something Giles couldn’t identify.

Giles smoothed her eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. “Do you want me to be fine with it?”

Willow considered the question. How would she feel if Giles didn’t care about her sleeping with Spike? Would that be better than him being angry?

“No,” she finally replied, “not really.”

“Alright,” Giles replied, his tone suddenly even. She had heard him use that voice before. Her back stiffened.

Giles helped Willow out of her coat and placed it along with her bag on the couch.

“Wait here until I call for you.” Before she could respond, Giles was already on his way upstairs. She noticed he was moving slowly, probably because he was still healing from his injury. She felt grief that she had not been there to help him when he was stuck at home, but she quickly reminded herself that he had been the one to dismiss her. Twice.

Willow waited in Giles’ living room, listening to the sound of Giles moving around up in his bedroom. After a few minutes, he called for her and she climbed the steps up to the loft.

As she arrived at the top of the stairs, the first thing Willow noticed was that the space was lit entirely by candlelight. In the flicker of the flames, she saw Giles standing before her, next to the bed. He had discarded his suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie, and the sleeves of his button-down shirt were rolled up. She approached him, her hands reaching for his belt to begin undressing him.

“No,” Giles ordered. Willow’s hands froze.

Giles sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he directed her. She did.

“Bend over my lap, face down.” She swallowed nervously, but moved to Giles. As delicately as she could, she positioned herself as instructed, her hips resting on his thighs.

“If you want me to stop, say the word ‘stop’. Is that clear?”

Her voice shaking with anxiety and anticipation, she exhaled, “yes.”

“Why are you bent over in my lap right now, Willow?”

She wasn’t sure what answer he wanted. “Because I need to be punished.”

“Why do you need to be punished?”

“Because I…I…” The thing she had so readily yelled at Giles weeks before was suddenly impossible to utter.

“You what, Willow?” Giles pulled the waistband of her skirt down over her hips and discarded the garment on the floor.

“I had sex with Spike.”

“Yes. You fucked Spike.” He brought his palm down against her right cheek, eliciting a squeak from the witch.

“I imagine that fucking was not the first activity you did with Spike. What did you do first? Did you kiss him?” He struck her again.

“Yes!” she squealed, her tender flesh smarting from the sting of Giles’ hand.

“What else?” Giles asked, his breath uneven.

“He held my arms over my head.” Giles directed another strike at Willow’s ass, leaving a pink handprint on one cheek.

“And?”

Willow squirmed, stinging from the spanking but far more uncomfortable about telling the details of her tryst with Spike. Another smack urged her to speak.

“He took my dress off. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He put his…he sucked…”

Willow’s face was flushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t sure why it was so hard to say the words, especially considering what she had already done with Giles and intended to do with him in the near future.

Giles’ rasping voice egged her on. “Tell me, Willow.” He struck her behind again, harder this time.

Willow let out a grunt, then replied, “He sucked on my nipples. I could feel through his jeans that he was hard.” Another smack, then another.

“Did you taste him, too?”

Willow nodded, but Giles delivered a blow to her backside. She cried out, the cumulative sting of the spanking beginning to hurt more than a little.

“I did! I sucked his cock. But it felt so good that he made me stop so he could fuck me.”

Willow found that, underneath the shame and discomfort of her punishment, she was growing increasingly aroused. Whether it was the spanking or the retelling of her encounter with Spike, she could not begin to guess.

Giles continued his assault on the soft flesh of Willow’s backside. Her skin was bright pink, the color darkening a little with each blow. He paused and removed Willow’s panties, which he was pleased to note were very wet. He caressed her bare ass.

“And how did he fuck you? Was he on top? Did he take you from behind?”

Willow groaned. “He…he sat on the couch – “ Before she could finish her sentence, Giles slid two fingers inside her. She let out a long, low moan. Her hips moved in time with Giles’ strokes. Suddenly, he removed his hand. Willow whimpered and squirmed in protest.

“Continue,” Giles ordered, huskiness in his voice.

Willow kept squirming. She couldn’t even remember what she was supposed to be telling Giles. Something about Spike…

A brutal strike to her bare ass shook her out of her reverie. She cried out.

“He was on the couch! He sat on the couch and I straddled him. I rode him until he came inside me.”

Giles slapped Willow’s left cheek, then her right, the strokes coming more quickly now. Whatever jealousy he had felt had dissipated when he saw Willow writhe and moan under his hand. In fact, he might have to thank Spike for this later.

“Did you come? Did Spike make you climax, Willow?”

Willow bit her lip and nodded, then remembered herself and admitted aloud, “Yes, he did.”

Giles smacked her ass once more, then returned his attentions to the wet juncture between her legs. He delicately grazed his finger up and down her slit. Willow bucked and grunted, trying to force him to apply more pressure there.

“Lie still,” Giles ordered, a threat in his tone.

Willow controlled herself as best she could, although she continued to tremble and whine.

“Do you remember, Willow, what I told you in the training room, when I teased you just like this?”

All Willow could do was moan. The time for coherence had passed.

“I told you,” Giles continued, “that your orgasms belonged to me. That they were mine to give – or to withhold – as I saw fit.”

He continued stroking her slit as Willow’s body burned. She felt as though she might die here, and it was a fair price to pay if only she could come.

“But you gave one of them to Spike. You allowed him to make you come, did you not?”

Willow dreaded where this was going. She grunted in the affirmative, unable to form words.

“I’m afraid, sweet Willow,” Giles breathed, his voice rumbling with desire, “that I can’t let you come right now.”

Willow whimpered, shifting underneath Giles’ tantalizing ministrations.

“I would have liked to, but unfortunately, I have to withhold this orgasm from you. This is your penance. Do you understand?”

Willow began to cry. The urge to come was so strong, and her mind was mush. She was wild with desire and longing. “Please, Giles, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She turned her face and twisted to look back at him. His face was contorted with desire. She looked in his eyes and continued to beg. “Please, please just let me come. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I’ll do anything you ask, please just let me finish.”

Calmly, brutally, Giles continued his soft strokes. “I know you’ll do anything I ask, Willow. I know you will.”

Willow’s tear-streak face stared up at him in total submission. In that moment, she truly gave all of herself to him. He loved her more then than he realized was possible.

Suddenly, Giles shifted his hand and moved to rub Willow’s clit. He pressed into it with two fingers, swirling them around in a tight circle. Willow called his name, bucking her hips furiously. He had to hold her tight with his free hand just to keep her from toppling off the end of the bed. After only a few seconds, she stiffened and cried out, her orgasm racking her body.

As her body slowly relaxed, Giles gently stroked her back and whispered loving things to her. He moved her so she was sitting upright in his lap and he held her to him. He wiped the tears from her face and held her until her breathing was slow and even.

“Giles?” Her voice was small and quavering.

“Yes, Willow?” He looked down and brushed her hair behind her ear.

She grasped at his shirt with feeble fingers, twisting her hand around the fabric. “Thank you,” she whispered. She nestled further into his embrace, feeling so completely loved. Somewhere in her addled mind, she plucked the term “aftercare” from her BDSM research.

Willow had almost begun to fall asleep when she shifted slightly and realized that Giles was still extremely aroused. Feeling him pressed against her gave her a jolt all the way up her spine. She lifted her head and looked up at Giles; he returned her gaze with fire in his eyes. She reached up a hand, cupping his cheek in her hand, and he leaned into her touch, sighing at the warmth of her fingers.

A shadow of worry crossed Willow’s face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Giles.

Willow knew that if she spoke the words aloud, the tears would come again, and she was sick of crying. She cast her eyes down and stared at the buttons on Giles’ shirt.

Lifting her chin to bring her eyes back up to his, Giles spoke softly. “Willow, tell me.”

She sat up and kissed his cheek, then his mouth. The kiss deepened and soon their tongues were mingling, Willow’s fingers entangling themselves in Giles’ hair. He brought his hand up to caress her face and felt moisture there. Gently breaking the kiss, Giles wiped the tears from Willow’s face and looked into her eyes, questioning her silently. She said nothing.

“Please,” he whispered.

Willow pressed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears that were coming whether she wanted them or not. She nuzzled close to Giles and placed her head near his heart so she could hear it beating.

“Tonight,” she began slowly, “you love me. You want me. You’re happy with me. But tomorrow, you’re going to toss me out, you’re going to hate yourself and convince yourself that I’m better off without you. I can’t bear that again. I won’t survive it.”

“Oh, Willow,” was all he managed to say. He gripped her to him as though she might disappear at any moment. He felt her despair, her pain, her fear wash over him as he cradled her in his arms. His guilt was bottomless.

Finally, he was able to find the words. “Willow, I know that I’ve betrayed your trust. I’ve hurt you in ways that I never intended or imagined. You have no reason to believe me right now, to trust in me again. But I promise to always be honest with you, to tell you everything.”

He took a deep breath and continued. “You’re right that I’ll hate myself tomorrow, but I hate myself today, too.” He could feel her tense in his embrace and he hurried to make his point. “But it’s not because I think it’s wrong to love you. It’s because I’ve wounded you so deeply. I’m not going to leave you, Willow.” He spoke the words with urgency. “In fact, I’m going to spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”

Fresh tears streaked Willow’s face as sobs rocked her body. Giles gathered her up as close to him as he could make her. He held her that way for endless minutes as she slowly recovered.

Meekly, Willow reached for Giles’ shirt buttons and began to unfasten them, opening his shirt. His body tensed a little when he felt what she was doing. He looked down and saw that she had gotten as far as she could in this position. With enormous care, he shifted her over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, then gripped her face in his hands and kissed her fervently, feeling his desire build for her again.

Fumbling with the remaining buttons, Willow eventually liberated Giles from his shirt, which he doffed along with his undershirt. Willow hesitantly stretched her fingertips towards the curls of hair on his chest. He was crisscrossed with scars, some newer than others, the recent wound on his abdomen still evident. She traced some of the older scars reverently, then pressed her lips to his skin, feeling the hair tickle her face.

Giles inhaled as Willow kissed his chest. Over the course of their limited encounters, he had been the one doing things to her throughout most of that time; it was intoxicating seeing what she would do to him. He looked down at her and saw that she was still dressed from the top up. “Willow,” he called to her, “wait. I want to see you.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes, a quizzical expression on her face. He kissed her sweetly. “I want to see all of you.” She understood his meaning then, and blushed. It was foolish, she knew, considering everything that had happened, but he had never seen her naked and she was scared that he wouldn’t like what he saw. Despite that fear, her desire for him was urging her forward, so she stood and faced him.

In one swift motion, she pulled her sweater over her head and let it drop to the hardwood floor. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting that fall away, too. For a moment, she stood with her hands tucked under her chin, her forearms covering her breasts. But Giles’ desirous eyes gave her courage, and she let her arms fall to her sides.

“Oh,” Giles breathed. He stood up and kissed her, wrapping her in his arms. He felt her nipples harden against his bare chest. She moved her hands to his belt, eventually undoing the buckle and pulling the leather free of the belt loops. Her fingers surprisingly sure, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, feeling the hardness within. Giles looped his thumbs inside his pants and boxer briefs, sliding them down and discarding them without a second thought. A quick removal of socks and he, too, was naked for his lover.

Willow’s fingers wrapped gingerly around Giles’ cock and began to stroke it slowly. He let out a guttural sound that made her question for a moment whether she was hurting him or pleasing him. His mouth on hers let her know which it was. After breaking the kiss, Willow dropped to her knees and took Giles into her mouth, using her lips and tongue to apply pressure to the most sensitive areas.

Giles, for his part, had been on edge for the better part of an hour and knew he wouldn’t be able to handle much more of this. His voice gruff, he called to her. “Willow, get on the bed.”

She obeyed, swiftly positioning herself in the center of the bed, sitting on her haunches. Giles followed, kneeling opposite her. After discarding his glasses on the nightstand, he picked her up swiftly and swung her legs around so he could lay her flat on her back. As he did so, he found her nipple with his mouth and tasted her. His lips moved down Willow’s body, savoring the feel of her ribcage, her soft stomach, her hips. When he got to his destination, he positioned himself between her legs, draping her thighs over his shoulders.

Giles didn’t hold back as he eagerly lavished Willow’s pussy with attention. As she writhed and bucked beneath him, he held her hips firm; he was relentless. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head closer, greedy for him.

His need for her overpowering, Giles released his grip on Willow’s hips and moved himself up the bed, leaning over Willow. Brushing her hair off her face, he looked in her eyes. “Tell me,” he begged her.

“Giles, I need you,” Willow pleaded. “I need you now.”

Without hesitation, Giles took her. Soon, they found a rhythm, moans filling the air of the candlelit room. He tried to be gentle and controlled, but it was hard to be reverent when he desired her so much. For her part, Willow seemed to be fighting the same battle. Soon, the side of patience and tenderness lost, and the lovers were moving as if their very lives were in the balance. Feeling himself getting close, Giles leaned back until his torso was almost vertical, then moved one hand to stroke Willow’s swollen clit.

Stars exploded behind Willow’s eyes as she tumbled headlong into an orgasm. The sight of Willow wriggling on the bed combined with the sensation of her pulsing around him led Giles to his own release. Moments later, the pair lay on the bed, sweating and breathing hard.

Giles reached out with his fingertips, feeling the space between them until he grasped Willow’s hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. Willow’s voice eventually broke the silence. “I’ve never had two before,” she said, her voice full of awe. Giles grinned and rolled onto his side to face her. He reached across with his free hand and pulled her to him, kissing her languidly, savoring the experience. Now that they had exhausted their sexual energy – at least, for now – they were in no rush. The post-coital fog lent everything a pleasant haziness, a feeling rather distinct from the sharp intellectual focus in which they spent most of their time.

After a quick rinse in the shower and several more minutes of leisurely kissing, Willow suddenly piped up with a question.

“Hey,” she began, “why didn’t my hair go black?”

“Mmm?” Giles murmured, still fuzzy from the night’s events.

“Well, when Oz and I were kissing at the shop a few weeks ago, I felt myself…getting dark. My hair even changed colors for a minute. And the same thing happened when you kicked me out after you got home from the hospital. But it didn’t happen tonight. And it didn’t happen with…when…it didn’t happen any other times either.”

Giles’ analytical mind kicked into gear. “It’s an interesting question. The two experiences certainly seem different. How were you feeling during each incident?”

“Well, pretty much the way you’d expect, I guess. With Oz, I was…” She swallowed, the coughed. “I was turned on. But obviously that’s not what I was feeling when you told me to leave.”

“Hrm,” Giles grunted. “I don’t know. I imagine there’s something the two moments had in common.”

Willow bit her lip, deep in thought. “With Oz,” she recalled, “I was afraid of what it would mean if we got back together. I didn’t really want to sleep with him, at least I didn’t think it was a good idea, but we just…we couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Alright,” Giles said encouragingly, “what was your thought process the other time?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “the time when I cruelly dismissed you from this house because my self-loathing made me blow up our friendship.”

“I was upset, of course. I was caught off-guard. I felt myself getting really angry. Like, really, really angry. I started to lose control.”

“Uh-huh,” Giles said, “perhaps that’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“With Oz, you lost control of your libido. With me, you lost control of your temper. In both cases, you were out of control.”

Willow considered this, then blushed. “I’d like to think I lost control with you more than once. Why didn’t it happen then?”

“Willow, you never lost control with me because you weren’t in control at all. By intentionally transferring your power to me, you established a totally different dynamic.”

“What about with Spike?” She blushed even brighter.

“Did you want to stop?”

Willow’s eyes darted to the side and she refused to meet Giles’ gaze.

“That’s why. You only feel out of control when you’re actually trying to be in control. You weren’t trying to stop with Spike, and you’re not in control when you’re with me.”

Willow nodded, trying to stifle a yawn. “I still don’t like the idea of turning all dark and brooding if I start to freak out.”

Giles smiled. “We’ll work on it, I promise. It doesn’t have to be forever.”

Willow smiled warmly and hugged Giles, yawning once again. With a twinge of dismay, Giles said, “I should take you home.”

Willow’s lips puffed out into a pout and her eyebrows knitted together. Giles’ expression turned to one of affectionate chastisement. “You know you can’t stay here. You live with Buffy. There would be too many questions.”

“But Giles,” Willow protested, “if we’re…if this is really happening, we can’t keep it a secret forever.”

Giles ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Do you want to tell her tonight?”

Willow grimaced.

“No, I don’t want to either,” Giles responded. “We’ll find a way to tell her, but not tonight. Get dressed; I’ll drive you home.”


	18. Scoobies, Come Out to Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang discovers the source of the increased supernatural activity around the Hellmouth.

Willow stepped out of Giles’ car in front of Buffy’s house, noting that the lights were still on downstairs. She hoped that she would be able to lie to her friend. _Not forever_ , she told herself, _just until Giles and I figure out how to tell her_. She climbed the steps to the porch and walked inside.

“Hey, Wils,” Buffy greeted her from the couch, “you’re back late.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed, hoping she was acting as casual as she should be. “I guess it’s pretty late.”

“Why’s your hair wet?”

Willow balked. “Oh, uh, my hair…” She grasped for an explanation that might seem plausible. “I kept falling asleep while we were researching, so I stuck my head in the sink. Woke me right up.”

Buffy scrunched her nose. “Wow. I woulda gone for a coffee, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

Relieved, Willow plopped down onto the couch next to Buffy, but shot right back up when she felt the sting of her raw backside.

“Willow, what’s with you?” Buffy demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Willow insisted. “I’m just really tired and I shouldn’t be down here watching TV. I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied uncertainly. Willow had been acting strange all day – all week, even – and Buffy wasn’t sure whether she should be concerned. For now, if Willow said she was okay, Buffy would take it on faith, but she could only do so for so long. As Willow padded up the stairs to bed, Buffy watched her go, feeling a knot of concern grow in the pit of her stomach.

\---------------

Late the next afternoon, the Friday crowd at The Magic Box made it impossible to have a real meeting. Willow and Dawn weren’t exactly disappointed, however, as it gave them the opportunity to chat about the boys in Dawn’s class and gossip to their hearts’ content.

Giles, however, was not relishing the commotion in the shop in quite the same way. He was frantically working the register while customers bombarded him with questions about this charm or that amulet. Willow, seeing the Watcher’s forehead crinkle with stress, paused her conversation with Dawn and approached the counter.

“Excuse me,” she said to a rather desperate-looking customer. “I can help you with that.”

Giles looked at Willow with immense adoration. The witch guided the frenzied customer to the appropriate section of the shop and offered advice about which products to select for his needs. Willow did the same for the other curious and befuddled patrons, easing the burden off of Giles, who was able to take care of the large line at the register. After fifteen or so minutes, the shop had nearly emptied and the queue finally evaporated.

Willow went back over to the counter, leaning across it to within inches of Giles. She grinned up at him. “Bet you’ll wanna thank me later,” she purred, playfully kicking up the heel of her boot.

Giles leaned towards her, wanting to show her his gratitude, when he spied Dawn giving them the hairy eyeball. “Oh yes, Willow, thank you,” Giles offered formally, speaking far too loud.

His awkwardness bringing her back to the here and now, Willow stood up straight and replied, also too loudly, “You’re welcome, Giles. I…like helping customers.” Her face hidden from Dawn, she shot Giles a pathetic look, then fixed her features and returned to the table to reclaim her seat across from Dawn.

“You guys are so weird,” Dawn appraised, pulling out her Biology homework.

Willow sat back in her chair, puffing out her lower lip and huffing a breath upwards in dismay. _This is going to be a lot harder than you thought, Willow_ , she told herself. A clandestine glance over at Giles suggested he was thinking the exact same thing.

Willow pulled out her own book, a novel she’d picked up from the public library that morning. It was about a librarian who solved mysteries and fell in love with a younger woman. She knew it was too on-the-nose, but she didn’t care. She had already devoured half the story since breakfast.

A short time later, Buffy and Xander strode in, a tray of drinks and a bag of food in tow.

“Ooh, dinner!” Dawn exclaimed.

“Yeah, Buffy wanted to bring us all leftovers from work,” Xander announced, eliciting frowns and upturned noses from the gang, “but I offered to pitch in and provide a lavish dinner of Pad Thai.”

“So fancy,” Willow observed, then her eyes narrowed at Buffy. “Wait a minute. You’re feeding us because we’re about to spend a long Friday night talking about evil and researching and stuff, aren’t you?”

“No…” Buffy began unconvincingly, “unless you feel like talking about evil all night, because boy, we really have a lot of work to do.”

Willow and Dawn groaned in sync. “Just when you thought any distraction would be welcome in the midst of cell diagrams,” Dawn sighed.

Dawn ran off to hit the bathroom while Buffy and Giles discussed the specifics of the intel Buffy had gotten from Spike. Willow joined Xander in helping to unpack the various dishes for dinner. Xander leaned close to Willow and asked, “How are you?”

Willow smirked at Xander. “I’m good,” she replied, an air of nonchalance about her that Xander saw right through.

“Are you two…did he…are you…” Xander’s face contorted as the discomfort of the topic made it impossible for him to speak the words.

“Giles and I are…” Willow weighed her words. “We’re good. Very good.” She nodded decisively and distributed plastic forks around the table.

Xander tried to look pleased while simultaneously being nauseated. The resulting expression made him look like he was having a stroke.

“Xander,” Willow chided wearily.

“I know, I know. I’m just still kinda wiggin’ out here, Wil. You have to admit that this whole thing is kind of nuts.” Xander met Willow’s eyes, and she could see concern there, but it was concern couched in affection.

“Yeah, it is,” she admitted.

“Are you going to tell Buffy?”

“Of course,” Willow paused and glanced over at her friend, still deep in discussion with Giles, the man Willow loved. “I just don’t know how. She’s going to freak out.”

“Yup,” Xander affirmed, kissing Willow affectionately on the forehead as he passed her to grab a drink from the tray. Willow couldn’t help but laugh at the futility of her worrying. No matter what, Buffy was going to have a negative reaction to Willow and Giles’ relationship, and no matter what, Willow was going to have to tell her anyway. _Not tonight_ , she decided. _I just need a little time._

\-------------------

Once the hunger of the group had been sated, Buffy relayed the basics of Spike’s intelligence-gathering operation to Dawn, Xander, and Willow.

“So, according to this spiritual authority…sage…guy, the Hellmouth is pumping out energy like crazy, drawing vamps and other demons from miles away. It’s like somebody put vampire catnip in the middle of Sunnydale.”

“So, vamp-nip,” Xander offered, then chuckled. “Heh, vamp-nip. Sounds like vampire nipples.” He paused, his eyes growing wide. “Oh god, now I’m thinking about Spike’s nipples. Get it out, get it out!” Xander swatted around his head as if he were being attacked by bees.

Ignoring him, Buffy continued, “Basically, we need a way to reduce the energy emanating from the Hellmouth so that beasties and bad guys stop flocking here like ants to a picnic. Willow, last month you did a spell on that Gaarvoth demon and made it so he couldn’t raise any more zombies. You called it a magic disruption spell.”

“Yeah…” Willow nodded, unsure.

“So, would that work on a place instead of a person? Could you disrupt the energy of the Hellmouth?”

Willow let out her breath in a huff. “I don’t know, Buff. The Hellmouth isn’t exactly a place, it’s more like a thinning of the membrane between dimensions. Since I don’t know what is causing the energy output to increase, I don’t know if I can stop it.”

Willow looked around the table and saw the eyes of Buffy, Dawn, Xander, and Giles all fixed on her. Shrugging her shoulders, she offered, “I could try?”

Buffy smiled. “That’s my girl. What do you need?”

“Well, I’ll have to figure out some logistics first. And I’d like to do some practice before I try it full-scale. Give me a couple of days?”

Nodding, Buffy turned to the rest of the group. “Okay, while Willow prepares to try the spell, the rest of us need to do damage control. With so many extra demons and vamps in town, people are getting hurt. Dawn, talk to the other kids at school about avoiding the streets and night and traveling in pairs or groups. Make up a story if you have to, something about almost getting kidnapped or rabid coyotes, whatever it takes. Xander, I’m going to need your help patrolling and clearing the streets after sundown. Giles, help Willow with her magic and keep your ears open at the shop; maybe if there’s a magical reason for the Hellmouth being more active, somebody who comes here will know something about it.” Buffy locked eyes with each member of the group to be sure they understood their task.

Once she was satisfied, Buffy stood and grabbed her coat. “Dawn, Xander and I are going to take you home then head out on patrol. Giles, will you make sure Willow gets home alright?”

Giles nodded and had to stop himself from reaching for Willow’s hand. “Yes, of course.”

Willow stood and hugged Buffy reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out, Buffy, don’t worry.”

Buffy pulled away and met Willow’s eyes. “I know you’re still working on everything, but time is a factor. We need you, Wil.”

Nodding gravely, Willow squeezed Buffy’s arm. “I’ll do my best.”

With a small smile, Buffy nodded goodbye to Willow and Giles, then exited the shop behind Xander and Dawn. Alone in the shop, Giles and Willow let out a heavy sigh at the same time.

Giles smiled. “Well, I suppose we have our work cut out for us. Shall I retrieve _Spates Catalog_?”

“I’ll grab the addenda to the _Necronomicon_ ,” Willow sighed, each going to the appropriate section of the reference shelves.

\-----------------

After an hour of research and materials-gathering, Willow had an idea of how she wanted to approach the spell. If she and Giles could create a small interdimensional portal within a sacred circle, Willow could practice limiting the energy emanating from the portal. If she could figure out how to do that, she could theoretically scale up the same spell to limit the energy coming out of the Hellmouth.

In the training room at the back of the shop, Giles rolled up his shirt sleeves and got to work preparing to cast a circle. Willow was meditating on the floor mat, drawing in mystical energy and clearing her mind. Grabbing an ancient text from the table, Giles turned to a page covered in runes.

“Willow,” he said, “whenever you’re ready, I can open a small portal. The circle should protect us in case anything goes wrong.”

After a moment, Willow opened her eyes, nodded solemnly to Giles, and stood up. Her bare feet sunk slightly into the mat, and she stood in a Southpaw stance, leading with her right foot and arm. She breathed deeply, focus evident on her face.

“Do it,” she said.

Giles began chanting in a forgotten tongue, and almost immediately a glowing mote of blue light formed in the air about three feet above the floor. The mote grew into a swirling whirlpool, relatively calm and strikingly beautiful. It looked almost like a scale model of the Milky Way. Heat came off the portal even with the protective circle in place. Giles stopped chanting but stayed put. The same book that told him how to open the portal also contained the spell to reverse the incantation, so he stood at the ready.

Willow fixed her gaze on the portal and began her own chant, this one in plain English:

            _Though there be a door within_

_A space where walls have worn so thin_

_I limit now this energy_

_Restore our world’s tranquility_

Her arms outstretched towards the portal, Willow repeated the chant over and over, willing the portal not to close, but to weaken. Slowly, it began to change. The vibrant blue light became less saturated, turning a duller and duller color. The whirling motion slowed and there was no longer any heat emanating from the circle. The portal was definitely still there, but it seemed almost to be in stasis, frozen.

Willow continued her chanting, the strain of the magic showing on her moistened brow. Giles spoke softly, reminding her, “Willow, don’t force it. You are still getting used to using your power again. Relax. Let it go.”

Breathing deeply, Willow blinked and met Giles’ eyes. He was right. Willow stopped chanting and slowly brought down her arms to rest by her sides. The swirling portal returned to its previous hue of brilliant sapphire and it went back to its original level of activity. Giles read the incantation to close it, and the light collapsed down into the tiny mote again before popping out of existence.

Willow sat with a thud on the floor mat, breathing heavily. She wiped her forehead and tried to regain her composure.

“That was amazing,” Giles breathed. “The power you’re exhibiting so soon after your recovery…it’s remarkable.”

Willow shook her head. “It’s not enough, Giles. You saw that. As soon as I let go, it went right back to its natural state. If I did the same thing to the Hellmouth, the reduction in energy would only last as long as I kept chanting. It’s not a permanent fix.”

Giles knelt down to face her. “Willow. I know you want to help Buffy. We all do. But you’re holding yourself to an impossible standard. You should be happy about how far you’ve come and what you’ve been able to accomplish.”

Nodding reluctantly, Willow looked into Giles’ eyes. “But what are we going to do now?”

\-----------------

The next afternoon, Giles, Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Spike sat around the table at The Magic Box in silence. Willow, having revealed the temporary and limited nature of her energy limitation spell, was trying her best not to become overwhelmed by guilt. Giles reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it firmly. Buffy had clearly put all of her eggs into the Willow-saves-us-with-magic basket, and now she was out of ideas.

“We could always just abandon ship,” Spike chimed in helpfully.

Buffy leveled a look of stern impatience his way and refused to respond. “Listen guys,” she reasoned, “there has to be a reason that we’re seeing this surge in energy. Giles, have you found anything in the calendars, prophesies, or codexes that might explain why this is happening now?”

“Codices,” said Willow and Giles together.

Buffy groaned impatiently. “Have you?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Giles sighed, cleaning his glasses thoroughly. “There’s nothing in any of my texts that would point to any event of significance in this place or time.”

Buffy turned. “Spike, have you heard anything from your people?”

Spike shrugged noncommittally. “None of the tourist vamps can explain why they came. They just say they felt like heading out this way. There are more vamps, more demons, more witches, more werewolves, more everything. Anything with even a smidge of supernatural blood is being drawn to Sunnydale. I don’t know why, and nobody seems to have a clue either.”

Xander leaned forward, arguing, “There’s got to be a reason. Is it possible that a person is causing the increase in energy from the Hellmouth? Could someone be doing this on purpose?”

Everyone looked at Willow and Giles. “It’s possible,” Willow equivocated, “but it’s equally likely that this is some kind of natural occurrence or even interference from a Hell dimension. We don’t even know if the surge of energy is caused by something on this side of the Hellmouth.”

“Has anyone actually gone to the entrance to the Hellmouth to see if anything’s there?” Giles asked.

Everyone looked around guiltily for a moment.

“Alright, then,” Giles remarked. “Shall we take a field trip to our old stomping grounds?”

\-------------------

The new high school was nicer-looking than the outdated building that had been destroyed during The Ascension, but somehow it still smelled the same. Xander emitted a pained squeak when Buffy kicked down a door he himself had installed. Once inside, Spike shrugged off his protective blanket and five of them proceeded further into the building.

“God,” Willow murmured as they entered the main hall, “I feel like I’m late for a test or something. I didn’t even go to school in this building.” Her voiced bounced off the wall eerily as they proceeded down an empty corridor.

“Keep it together, Wil,” Buffy warned. “We don’t know what we’re going to find and I need your A-game, not your anxiety.”

“Heard,” Willow replied, making an effort to breathe evenly and focus her mind.

With Xander’s memory of the layout as a guide, they quickly found the door to the basement and climbed down into the shadowy lower level. Spike himself was not immune to the Hellmouth’s energy, and he acted as a bloodhound, sniffing out the exact spot from which the power was emanating.

Spike indicated a maintenance door and Buffy silently signaled the gang to get behind her. She opened the door and stepped inside.

“Hello there,” a woman greeted her cheerfully. “You must be Buffy. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Willow recognized the voice and peered inside the room. “Doctor Gruden?”

“Please,” she replied, “how many times must I ask you to call me Dana?”


	19. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang battles the foe causing a surge of energy at the Hellmouth.

“Come on in, now; don’t be shy,” Doctor Dana Gruden crooned as Buffy and her friends filed into the maintenance room in Sunnydale High School’s basement. “It is so wonderful to put faces to some of the names I’ve heard so often.”

Buffy shot a quizzical look at Willow, who was as white as chalk. Dana stood in the center of the room, surrounded by candles. The five of them formed a semi-circle in front of the psychologist, Willow and Giles on Buffy’s right, Xander and Spike on her left. Once everyone had found their way into the room, Giles greeted Doctor Gruden with a sardonic smile. “Hello, Dana. I didn’t think I was due to chat with you until Wednesday.”

“She’s your therapist?” Buffy cried, incredulous.

“Mine, too,” Willow sighed.

“Willow,” Buffy said as she narrowed her eyes, “why is your therapist hanging out at the entrance to the Hellmouth?”

“I know,” Doctor Gruden interrupted, “it’s not as cozy as my Santa Barbara office. Sorry I don’t have enough seating for everyone.” She gestured around the virtually-empty room. The space was utterly unremarkable, pipes lining some of the walls and a lone shelf of equipment towering in one corner. Every surface was made of cement. A pentagram of candles in the center of the room suggested that Dana was not here to offer counseling services.

Xander and Spike fanned out in an effort to get behind Doctor Gruden, but a wave of her hand erected a barrier that prevented them from going any farther. Seeing the demonstration of her power, Giles instinctively placed himself between Willow and Doctor Gruden.

Tilting her head in mock endearment, Dana spoke. “Oh, now that’s just so sweet. Willow, I can see why you’ve been so torn up over him. Tell me, since last we spoke, have you two reconciled after your lover’s quarrel, or are you still on the outs?”

“Willow, what is she talking about?” Buffy asked, confusion written all over her face.

Willow’s mouth opened as she looked in Buffy’s troubled eyes, but no sound came out.

“Giles? What does she mean ‘lover’s quarrel’?” Buffy’s voice held notes of disbelief and agitation.

Giles couldn’t meet the Slayer’s eyes. His devastated expression, however, told Buffy everything she needed to know.

Xander spoke up. “Buffy, they weren’t trying to hide it from you. It just happened.”

Buffy turned to Xander, her eyes wide. “You knew?”

Like Willow, Xander found himself speechless. He couldn’t think of anything to say that would lessen the feeling of betrayal washing over the Slayer.

Her words like venom, Buffy turned to the vampire. “What about you, Spike? Huh? Am I seriously the only one who didn’t know?”

Spike cast his eyes down and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Great,” Buffy spat. A single tear fell down her flushed cheeks. “My best friend is fucking my Watcher while my other best friend covers for them. And the vampire who claims he loves me knew about the whole thing.”

“If I may,” Spike retorted, holding up a single finger in the air, “I didn’t know that Xander knew, and Willow hasn’t fucked Giles yet.”

Spike and Willow exchanged a significant glance.

“Scratch that, but I still didn’t know about Xander.” Spike took a large step back as if to excuse himself from the conversation.

Buffy inhaled sharply and set her face in a mask of barely-contained rage. “This isn’t the time. We can deal with this later.”

Willow took a step towards her friend. “Buffy, I – “

“I said ‘later’.” Buffy stared straight ahead, Doctor Gruden in her sights. Willow stepped back and felt a wave of shame wash over her. Giles grasped Willow’s hand and squeezed.

“Oh,” Doctor Gruden feigned surprise, “you didn’t know?” She shook her head in dismay. “I suppose she probably didn’t tell you she slept with the vampire, either.”

Buffy’s face twitched, but she said nothing.

“We’ve got quite a trollop on our hands, haven’t we? The way she tells it, she rode him into the couch so hard, they wore out the springs.”

At this, Xander’s face screwed up into a look of total disgust. “Willow…Spike? Spike?” He leaned in her direction and cried out, “On my couch?!?” He brought his hands up to the top of his head in a gesture of total shock and distress.

Spike stepped over to stand just behind Buffy and placed his hand tentatively on her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” Buffy growled. Spike removed his hand but didn’t step away.

“Buffy, it didn’t mean anything. I still only have feelings for you.” He inclined his head towards Willow. “No offense, Red.” He turned back to Buffy. “You’re still the one. It just…happened.”

“These things seem to ‘just happen’ to you an awful lot. Must be hard for you.” The chill in her voice made Spike back off, returning to his original position.

Xander glanced over at the vampire. “Man, you are the shittiest roommate ever.”

“That’s fair,” Spike conceded.

Doctor Gruden cupped her hands together in a diplomatic manner. “My, doesn’t it feel better just getting these secrets out into the open? Rupert, shall we move onto the skeletons in your closet? I dare say they might be even more cathartic to air among friends.”

Giles leapt at Doctor Gruden then, but she merely flicked her wrist and tossed Giles against the wall like a ragdoll. He went into the wall with a sickening thud, then slid to the ground in a heap. Willow screamed and ran to him. He was breathing but unconscious, and bleeding freely from a wound to his scalp. Willow pressed her palm to his head in an effort to stem the flow of blood.

The sight of her Watcher unconscious on the ground made something snap inside of Buffy. Calmly, she took a single step towards her opponent.

“Doctor Gruden,” she began casually, “may I call you Dana? Dana, I’m sure we’re supposed to chat for a few more minutes, when you reveal your motivations and I make threats on your wellbeing, but I’d rather skip to the end if that’s alright with you. I’ll still pay for the whole hour, of course.”

Doctor Gruden grinned indulgently. “Oh, Buffy, there’s not much to understand about my motivations. I’ve been building up a clientele in this area for fifteen years, specializing in supernatural psychotherapy. Demons, vampires, witches, were-creatures, fairies, ghouls…you name it, if it has trauma or neuroses to work through, that’s my bread and butter. Over the past few years, my business has seen a bit of a slump. At first, I wasn’t worried, but once it became clear that it was a long-term problem, I took action. I imbued the opening to the Hellmouth with amplified energy, drawing in more supernatural beings – more clientele, if you will.”

“So,” Xander clarified, “you used mystical energy to advertise the Hellmouth so you could get more business?”

Doctor Gruden raised her eyebrows and nodded. “An astute analogy, Xander. A pity your friends think so little of your intelligence.” She revealed bright white teeth in a predatory grin. “Manipulating the energy of the Hellmouth isn’t that hard for a witch.” She slid her gaze over to Willow, who was still tending to Giles on the floor. “A skilled witch, anyway.”

“Lady,” Buffy announced, “we are gonna fuck you up.” Looking over at Giles and Willow, Buffy called to her friend. “Willow, I need you here with me.”

Willow looked up at Buffy, her face streaked with tears.

Urging her friend into action, Buffy reasoned, “We can’t help him if she’s still here. Help me. Please.” She kept her eyes fixed on Willow’s until the witch nodded. Willow stood and moved to stand next to Buffy. Spike and Xander did the same.

Rallying her friends, Buffy rumbled, “Whatever bullshit there is between us, whatever we have to deal with after this, it doesn’t matter right now. We’re going to stop Doctor Gruden and save Giles. Are you with me?”

Willow, Xander, and Spike all nodded. Eight eyes stared ahead at the petite blonde witch who threatened to end them all.

Moving into a fighting stance, Willow crouched slightly and extended her blood-stained hands in front of her. Doctor Gruden responded in kind. Although both were chanting in a language Buffy and the others failed to recognize, it was evident that each was trying to do harm to the other, but the spells were cancelling each other out. As both witches poured more and more energy into the fight, they began to show their exertion. Xander took the opportunity to sneak around behind Doctor Gruden, correctly guessing that her attention would be drawn away from maintaining the barriers at her flank.

Seizing his chance, Xander lunged low at Doctor Gruden, taking her out at the knees. Spike and Buffy stepped closer and tried to land blows while she was down, but she recovered too quickly, blowing them back against the wall with her magic. The spell had less power, though, than the one that had hurt Giles, and both Buffy and Spike were able to rejoin the fight.

Xander had not been quite so lucky, and held his left arm in a way that suggested something was broken. He knelt next to Giles and did his best to apply pressure to Giles’ wound with his unbroken arm. Giles was beginning to stir, but was still lying prone on the ground.

Buffy and Spike took opposite positions around Doctor Gruden, waiting for an opportunity to arise. Willow, laboring under the effort of battling the other witch, got an idea. She began circling the pentagram. As she passed behind Buffy and, in a moment, Spike, she whispered to them her plan.

Suddenly, she cried, “Now!” and both Buffy and Spike dove for Doctor Gruden, causing her to lose her footing and shift the focus of her magic to the Slayer and the vampire. In that moment, Willow began another spell.

            _Here there lies a door within_

_A space where walls have worn so thin_

_I summon now this energy_

_I beckon now to open thee_

The floor underneath the pentagram began to shimmer and pulse. Buffy and Spike immediately backed away, hugging the far walls of the maintenance room. Doctor Gruden looked around her feet at the throbbing floor.

“You wanted more energy from the Hellmouth?” Willow taunted. “You got it.”

Raising her hands again to direct magic at Doctor Gruden, Willow placed a barrier around the blonde witch, containing her within the pentagram in the center of the room.

“I may not be able to beat you in a contest of power,” Willow admitted, “but I can rock the fuck out of a barrier spell. You’re not going anywhere.” Pausing, she cocked her head to the side, considering the doctor. “Well, except to Hell.”

Doctor Gruden appeared to be changing somehow. She was sinking slowly into the floor, and seemed almost to be phasing out of this dimension as she did so. It was clear that she was trying to disrupt Willow’s barrier, but Willow’s spell was holding, although it clearly was a challenge to maintain it.

As Doctor Gruden’s attacks grew more and more frantic, Willow began to waver under the strain. Finally, she crumpled to her knees, panting with the effort. Doctor Gruden, now only a torso sticking up from the pentagram, levied one final curse at Willow, sending the young witch flying back into the shelf of maintenance gear.

Willow landed in front of the shelves, which then collapsed, covering her in hundreds of pounds of equipment. Buffy ran to Willow, casting a glance back at the pentagram, which was now completely gone. There were no candles, there was no shimmering floor, and there was no Doctor Gruden.

Buffy and Spike dug through debris and equipment, unearthing Willow. She was covered in dust and clearly injured, but she was breathing.

“Xander!” Buffy called, a note of panic in her voice. “Can you get Giles out to the car by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Xander exhaled, picking the Watcher up using his good arm. “How’s Wil? Is she – “ He couldn’t bear to finish the question.

“She’s alive,” Buffy replied curtly. “But we need to get to the hospital now. Spike, help me get her up. Try to keep her neck steady.”

With Spike and Buffy carrying Willow and Xander supporting Giles, all five of them made their way out of the basement. Since their arrival at the school, the sun had slipped below the horizon, and dusk fell on Sunnydale. They piled delicately into Xander’s car and sped off to Sunnydale Memorial.

“You’re gonna be okay, Wil,” Buffy whispered to her friend, “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

There was no response.


	20. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the battle, Giles is the only one who can help Willow, but will he get to her in time?

Buffy and Spike swept into the emergency entrance of Sunnydale Memorial, their combined shouts drawing the attention of half a dozen medical professionals. Spike cradled Willow gently in his arms, her limp body showing no signs of life. Just behind them, Xander staggered in, a groaning Rupert Giles still not fully conscious.

A man in scrubs brought a wheelchair over to Xander, who set Giles down in it. The nurse wheeled Giles away as Xander trailed to explain what had happened so Giles could be treated.

“Help!” Buffy called, her voice sharp with panic. Doctor Hernandez, the same trauma surgeon who had treated Giles a month earlier, ran over.

“Miss, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Doctor Hernandez’s eyes scanned Buffy quickly, looking for signs of injury.

“No, no,” Buffy explained, “it’s my friend.”

The doctor turned and looked at Spike. “Sir, where are you hurt?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look of alarm. “No,” Spike said, trying to speak clearly, “she’s hurt,” he insisted, looking down at Willow, still lifeless in his arms.

Doctor Hernandez’s eyebrows drew together in a look of confusion and concern. “I don’t understand. Could one of you explain what’s going on?”

Buffy looked square in the doctor’s eyes. “My friend, Willow, is going to die if you don’t do something.”

Spike, beginning to guess at the problem, got the physician’s attention. “Hey, doc, do you see a girl in my arms? Red hair, kinda bloody, looking even paler than me?”

Narrowing her eyes, Doctor Hernandez looked at Spike. “What are you talking about?”

Buffy grabbed the doctor’s right hand and placed it on Willow’s head. Doctor Hernandez yanked her arm back, paused, then reached out again. To Doctor Hernandez, she was touching thin air, but that air sure felt a lot like a head of hair. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “How?”

“Let’s go,” Buffy ordered, leading Spike down the hall. Locating an empty trauma suite, the pair placed Willow gently on a gurney. Doctor Hernandez and several other staff weren’t far behind. Buffy turned around and faced the medical team. Gesturing towards the bed, Buffy cried, “Can’t any of you see Willow?”

\---------------------

Across the hall, Giles was beginning to come to. His brain told him that something important was happening, but he couldn’t form a single thought inside his head. Someone was shining a light in his eyes and it was incredibly painful. He heard noises from across the hall, familiar voices. _“Can’t any of you see Willow?”_ That was important. He needed to…do something. He knew something. He just didn’t know what he knew.

Giles tried to sit up, but he was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited over the side of the gurney he was on. Someone was trying to push him back down and he struggled against their hands. He tried to see what was happening, but it was too painful to open his eyes. His mind began to clear just slightly, and the meaning of the earlier words came to him. “They can’t see her,” he groaned, still fighting the hands that tried to restrain him. “They can’t see Willow.”

Xander wedged himself between the doctor and Giles. “Why can’t they see Willow, Giles?”

“Spell,” Giles grunted, the pain in his head immeasurable.

“How do we undo it? Giles, how to we break it?”

“Bring me…” Giles’ voice trailed off as another wave of nausea came over him. He breathed deeply, then continued. “Bring me to her.”

Giles heard Xander arguing with the doctors. He would have sprinted to Willow’s side if his body had let him. Willing himself to shout despite the pain in his head, Giles commanded, “Now, Xander!”

 -------------------

Buffy and Spike were doing their best to guide Doctor Hernandez in treating Willow despite her invisibility; it was clearly a hopeless endeavor, but they were at a loss as to what else to do.

Behind them, Xander half-carried a still-bleeding Giles into the room and barked an order for everyone to clear a path. Standing at the foot of the gurney, Giles gathered his strength and planted his feet firmly, standing up straight. His eyes, still nearly closed, landed on Willow’s limp body on the bed. As if an electrical current ran through him, he felt his pain shrink to a much more manageable level.

Gripping the rail at the foot of the bed with one hand to steady himself, Giles extended his other hand forward, palm angled toward Willow. Doctor Hernandez and the others turned to stare at him, mouths agape.

            _When these words have thus been spoken_   
_Let the glamour spell be broken_

Doctor Hernandez turned back to the bed and was shocked to discover a red-haired girl lying in it. Her face was smeared with blood and she was barely breathing.

“Jesus,” the doctor breathed.

Buffy looked from Willow to Doctor Hernandez, then barked, “Okay, you can see her, now treat her!” The doctor shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and immediately began to work on the witch.

Giles collapsed on the floor in a heap. He only vaguely recognized that he was being carried somewhere, and then the blackness took him again.

\-----------------

The heart rate monitor beeped, its steady rhythm reassuring. Willow, hooked up to a half dozen machines, looked like she was surrounded by tiny snakes. Her face was covered in cuts and her hair was matted with dried blood. Thankfully, however, her skin had recovered its healthy pinkish hue and she was breathing on her own.

Giles sat by her bedside, himself still dressed in a hospital gown and a large bandage evident on his head. Nearly 24 hours had passed since he and Willow had been admitted to Sunnydale Memorial, but his concussion and bleeding had been so severe that he was being kept another night for observation. He wasn’t supposed to be out of his room, but the nurses who had seen the events of the previous night weren’t going to tell Giles what to do.

With a book in his lap, Giles quietly read Willow some of his favorite poems. It felt maudlin and juvenile, but he didn’t care. He was worried about her and this made him feel better. Most importantly, he didn’t want her to wake up alone.

He took a break from reading, his head feeling heavy and full of fog. Although he had started to recover from his head injury, it was difficult to concentrate. He felt as though he were perpetually on the edge of a migraine. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to relax his mind.

After a few minutes, he returned to his book.

“This next one,” he whispered to Willow, “is rather on the nose, but I feel compelled to represent the Bard.” He read:

_When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,_  
_I all alone beweep my outcast state,_  
_And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_  
_And look upon myself and curse my fate,_  
_Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_  
_Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,_  
_Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,_  
_With what I most enjoy contented least;_  
_Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_  
_Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_  
_(Like to the lark at break of day arising_  
_From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;_  
_For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings_  
_That then I scorn to change my state with kings._

He looked up from the poem and saw Willow’s eyes were open. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with tears.

She opened her mouth, but she produced only a croaking sound. Giles leaned closer to her and grabbed her left hand in both of his. “Shh,” he urged her. “You’re alright. You’re in hospital, I’m here with you. You were hurt. Badly. But you’re out of surgery now and the doctor says you’re to make a full recovery.”

Willow blinked, tears sliding down her face. She tried to speak again, but met the same result. She brought her hand up to her throat and looked at Giles with questioning eyes.

“You were intubated during surgery,” Giles explained, “and even though the tube is out now, they say you’ll be sore for another day or two. It might take you a couple of days before you can speak normally.”

Willow nodded slightly. She mouthed, “Are you okay?”

Giles smiled with some amusement, recalling how he asked her this same question when their positions had been reversed. “Yes, I’m alright. Concussed, but otherwise just fine. They say they’ll release me in the morning.”

Willow reached her right hand across to stroke his face but couldn’t quite reach him. Even that slight effort made her wince with pain.

Giles brought himself as close to her as he could, still holding one of her hands in his while moving his other hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t move,” he urged her, his voice breaking with tender sadness. “I’m right here.”

Willow closed her eyes at his touch and steeled herself, breathing deeply. Opening her eyes she weakly gestured in the air, miming the motion of writing. Giles grabbed the legal pad and pencil from the table next to the bed and passed them to Willow. She scribbled in large, uneven letters:

> What happened to me? Injuries?

Giles told her. “Doctor Gruden threw you against a shelf, and it fell on top of you. You had a collapsed lung and several cracked ribs. You also broke two bones in your right leg. You’re going to be here for several more days at least, but the doctors say your outlook is very good.” He was trying very hard to be cheerful and upbeat, but Willow saw the sorrow in his eyes. Willow returned to the notepad.

> I’m okay, Giles.

She smiled at him weakly, trying to be reassuring. Tears sprung to his eyes and fell down his cheeks. “Willow, you very nearly weren’t okay. You never removed that modified invisibility glamour you performed after I got hurt at the cemetery. None of the staff here could see you when Buffy and Spike brought you in.” He took a ragged breath, trying to collect himself. “You nearly died.”

Giles brought Willow’s hand to his cheek and they cried together. Willow had so many things she wanted to say to Giles, but they would have to wait. For now, they wept. After a few minutes, their tears began to slow. Willow took up the pencil again and wrote:

> Read me more poetry?

Giles let out a surprised laugh and wiped his face. “Alright,” he agreed. “I shall do my best to inveigle you with other people’s love poems. Prepare to be wooed.”


	21. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she prepares to return home from the hospital, Willow faces the same troubling questions that plagued her on her trip home from England. Will her friends accept her?

Willow spent nearly a full week in the hospital before she got the green light to go home. Giles had spent every available moment at her bedside to the point where the hospital staff threatened to charge him rent. As Willow filled out the release forms, she felt an all-too-familiar dread forming in the pit of her stomach. The last time she had seen Buffy and everyone else, all of Willow’s secrets had been laid bare, casting her in a rather unflattering light. Would Buffy even want to see her?

When she had flown back from England, she had feared rejection then too, but a large part of her felt that she would have deserved it. Although she was delighted to discover that her friends still cared for her and welcomed her back, she knew that she had done things that merited expulsion from their lives.

This time, however, she wasn’t sure what she felt. She had kept secrets, but in many ways, they had been her secrets to keep. Even so, she knew that she had hurt Buffy on a number of levels and she had no idea what to expect when she returned home that evening. She hadn’t seen Buffy at the hospital, but she wasn’t sure if that was because the Slayer hadn’t come to see her or because Willow hadn’t been awake often enough to catch her visits. Signing her name on the last page of the release form, Willow returned the clipboard to the nurse and allowed Giles to wheel her outside.

For his part, Giles’ recovery had been impressive. Despite still getting regular headaches and finding he needed more sleep than usual, his focus and his tolerance of light and sound were both nearly back to normal. He had hoped to get the all-clear to drive by the time Willow was released, but for now he was relegated to taxis. He helped Willow into the back of one now, then closed her door, loaded her wheelchair into the trunk, and went around the other side to get in beside her.

As they wound through Sunnydale towards Buffy’s house, Willow said, “I can’t tell if I want my anxiety to distract me from the physical pain or if I want it the other way around.”

Giles squeezed Willow’s hand reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay, Willow. You’ll see.”

Willow wished she had his confidence. She turned to stare out the window as the buildings’ glass facades glinted in the setting sun.

\----------------

As the taxi pulled up to the curb outside Buffy’s house, Willow closed her eyes and tried to prepare herself for whatever might be coming. At least she had Giles there with her. It would be okay if Giles was with her.

At the sound of her door opening, Willow opened her eyes to see Giles standing on the curb with her wheelchair ready. He helped her into the chair, the shut the door and paid the cab driver through the driver’s side window. Then, getting behind the wheelchair, he spun Willow around to face the house.

A ramp had been installed atop the center of the front steps. Willow blinked in disbelief. Someone had put a wheelchair ramp on Buffy’s house. Okay, not _someone_. Xander.

Giles grinned and wheeled Willow up onto the porch. He rang the doorbell and waited.

The door opened but no one appeared to be inside. Giles pushed Willow through the doorway and into the empty living room. Willow’s brow crinkled.

“SURPRISE!” yelled Buffy, Xander, Dawn, and Anya. They popped out from everywhere, it seemed, with Dawn even throwing a handful of confetti in the air. Anya was holding a sign that read “Welcome Home” and then, in small letters at the bottom, “Even though this is technically Buffy’s house, but for the purposes of this sign, the word ‘home’ seems appropriate.”

Willow, dazed but delighted, cried, “You guys!” She wanted to get up and hug everyone, but she wasn’t even rated for crutches yet, much less getting up to mingle.

Dawn got to Willow first, leaning down and hugging her way too tightly.

“Ah! Dawnie! Go easy on me,” Willow groaned, wishing she had taken an extra pain pill before leaving the hospital.

“Sorry Willow, I just got excited,” Dawn said. “There’s cake! Do you want cake?”

“Maybe in a bit, okay?” Willow replied, and Dawn nodded, scooting out of the way so others could greet Willow.

Xander came over next, his left arm in a bright pink cast. Willow caught sight of it and made a pitiful face.

“Oh, don’t feel too bad for me, Willow,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh yes,” Anya piped in from across the room. “He does everything right handed. Right, Xander?”

Xander closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, affixing his smile to his face with considerable effort.

Willow, attempting to bypass the moment, asked, “Why’d you go for pink?”

Xander opened his eyes and looked down at his arm. “So, funny story,” he began, “apparently a sarcastic request for a fuchsia cast is taken very seriously in the medical community.”

“I think it looks lovely on you,” Willow grinned.

“Yeah, well you get to have the normal one,” Xander jibed, pointing at Willow’s encased lower right leg. “You might not be so pleased if it were you with the silly color on your limb for a month.”

Willow shrugged. “They were out of pink.”

Xander smiled and hugged Willow gently, then went to find himself the biggest piece of cake available. Willow glanced over at Buffy, who stood aloof off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. Giles, still standing behind Willow, laid his hand delicately on Willow’s shoulder. After a moment, he kissed the top of Willow’s head and walked into the other room.

Buffy glanced over at Willow and saw that Giles had moved away. Exhaling decisively, Buffy uncrossed her arms and pulled a chair over to sit next to the witch. Willow looked down at her hands.

“Hey, Buffy,” Willow said, her voice unsteady.

“Willow,” Buffy sighed, “I’m just going to say everything, and I need you to not talk, okay?”

Willow met Buffy’s gaze for just a moment, then nodded and cast her eyes down.

Buffy breathed deeply, then began speaking. “I felt really, really hurt when I found out about everything. I know you did what you felt you needed to do, but being the last one to find out about you and Giles hurt. You’re my best friend. And you kept this from me.”

Pausing, Buffy looked down at her hands, clearly struggling with her emotions. “I was so angry and upset, but when I dug you out from under that shelf and I saw you lying there…” Buffy’s voice broke and she swallowed. “…I saw you there and I knew it didn’t matter. Who you love, what choices you make for your life, it doesn’t matter to me. I love you no matter what.” She lowered her head to catch Willow’s downcast eyes. The pair shared a small but genuine smile.

“I mean,” Buffy continued, her voice surer now, “am I totally grossed out about you and Giles? Yes. One hundred percent disgusted.” She and Willow both laughed. “But I’ll deal. Because I love you. And Giles. You guys are my family and nothing’s going to change that.”

Willow smiled, but her expression quickly clouded over. “Buffy, about Spike – “

“Ugh, I will give you every cent in my bank account if we never have to talk about that.”

“Conversation buried,” Willow agreed quickly. “No charge.”

Buffy leaned forward and hugged Willow as firmly as she could without putting the witch back in the hospital. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Buffy stood up and walked quickly toward the kitchen to investigate a crashing sound, anxiously calling Dawn’s name.

Anya came over to stand in front of Willow, bending over at the waist and smiling too enthusiastically. “Hello, Willow!” she exclaimed, her tone that of a person talking to a small child. “I’m very glad that you are sufficiently healed to return to your home.”

“Thanks, Anya,” Willow replied, amused at Anya’s discomfort in such social situations.

Anya’s smile faded and her tone shifted to a conspiratorial one. “Have I sufficiently wished you well? Am I permitted to leave now without incurring the ire of our mutual friends?”

Willow grinned broadly. “Anya, I think you’re safe to go. Thanks for coming.”

Before Willow had even finished speaking, Anya had disappeared. Xander came back over, a smudge of frosting on his lip as he devoured the cake.

“People come and go so quickly here,” he commented.

\------------------

Buffy stood at the kitchen island pouring a cup of soda. A gentle tapping on the back door got her attention. She opened the door and stepped out on to the back porch.

“Hi Spike,” she sighed, walking over to stand next to the vampire as he gazed up at the waxing moon.

“Hey, Buffy,” he said, his deep baritone vibrating in his chest. He flicked ashes off the end of his cigarette.

“Willow’s back.”

“Yeah, I saw. She seems better.”

“Yup. Doctors say she’s going to be alright. In a while, anyway. You coming in to say hi?” Something in her voice suggested that the correct answer was no.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m not dealing with that kettle of fish.” He paused, then asked tenderly, “How’ve you been holding up?

“I’m just fine.” Buffy didn’t bother to conceal the coolness in her voice.

Spike turned to face her. “Buffy, we haven’t spoken since the hospital. We haven’t talked about what happened. We haven’t talked about…us.”

Buffy turned and walked back towards the house. “There is no us.”

\-----------------

When Buffy reentered the kitchen, she found Giles cleaning his glasses in the kitchen. From the sound of it, Dawn and Xander had decided to test the volume limit on the stereo.

“Hi Giles,” she greeted him. In this, like every other interaction they’d had since the fight at the school, Buffy was supremely formal and polite.

Giles sighed. “Buffy, we need to talk.” As he looked at her, he noted that she wasn’t wearing the necklace he had given her when he returned from England.

“Are you ready to go back to training?” Buffy asked, distant and prim.

Knitting his brows, Giles replied, “What? Oh, no, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well,” Buffy responded, breezing past Giles towards the living room, “let me know when you are and we’ll get to work.”

“Buffy, wait.” Giles’ voice was loaded with emotion.

The Slayer stood at the doorway to the kitchen, her back to her Watcher. The tension in her shoulders was evident.

“Please,” Giles added softly. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Buffy turned halfway around, staring at the door jamb rather than Giles. “Doing what?”

“Pretending that things are fine. You know they’re not. We have to talk or things are never going to be okay between us.”

Slowly, Buffy strode back into the kitchen and walked over to the counter furthest from Giles, leaning against it. “Okay,” she said. “So talk.”

Giles looked down and smiled joylessly. “Buffy, when I – “

He paused, already uncertain about how to phrase things. “When Willow and I began our relationship, it wasn’t something we had planned or intended on doing. And there certainly wasn’t any malicious intent in keeping it hidden. We didn’t even know what our relationship was, and we weren’t ready to share it.”

“Xander knew. Even Spike knew.” Buffy was trying to keep her voice even, but her pain was not well concealed.

“Xander figured it out on his own. You know how annoyingly observant he can be when he feels like it. As for Spike, Willow…for whatever reason, Willow chose to disclose our relationship to him. Perhaps she felt it would be easier to talk to someone who wasn’t a close friend.”

Buffy made the choice then and there not to talk about Willow’s rendezvous with Spike. Glossing over the subject, she said, “Giles, I know we don’t always talk about personal stuff, but Willow’s my best friend. Whether you meant to or not, the two of you were sneaking around behind my back.”

“Buffy, I hate to point it out to you, but you’ve done a fair amount of sneaking in the past yourself. When Angel came back from Hell, when you started dating Riley and found out about the Initiative, when you were seeing Spike…need I go on?”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. “This is different.”

“How so?” Giles took a few steps towards the Slayer but kept a bit of distance between them. He didn’t want to push too hard.

“Angel and Riley and Spike weren’t your best friends. And besides, Giles, you’re like…you’re practically…” Buffy wrestled with her feelings. Giles kept his gaze fixed on her, saying nothing.

“You’re like a father to me, Giles. And you fell in love with my best friend.” The pain in her voice shattered Giles’ heart. He began to understand.

Buffy sniffled and continued. “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like I’m getting replaced. I feel like you chose her over me.”

Giles approached the Slayer and placed his hands on her upper arms, gently squeezing. “Buffy, that’s not crazy.”

Swallowing and wiping her face, Buffy looked into Giles’ eyes. “It’s not?”

Giles smirked warmly and brought Buffy into his arms. “No, it’s not. For years, you were the one woman in my life, even when you were just a girl. You were almost always the center of my world. And now that I’m in love with Willow, it’s different. You feel jealous. Not because you want to date me, but because you’re used to being the focus of my life.”

In this moment, Buffy felt small in his arms. She could break him in half in an instant, but for right now, she needed his strength.

“Buffy, no one could ever, ever replace you in my life. You will always be my Slayer, and I will always be your Watcher.”

A long moment passed as Giles held her in his arms. Inhaling deeply, Buffy asked, “Promise?”

Giles pulled away a little and looked into Buffy’s pink face. “I solemnly swear on Queen and Country.”

Buffy smiled, wiping her eyes and looked a little abashed. She nodded, sliding her usual tough exterior back on. The booming music from the living room was somehow even louder now. “Want to go yell at some people with me?”

“I would like nothing more,” Giles replied.

\-----------------

For the next hour, Buffy, Dawn, and Willow chatted just like old times. Dawn was incredulous that Buffy had had no clue about Willow and Giles.

“Come on, Buffy,” she cried, “did you seriously not see how they were looking at each other when they got back? I swear, sometimes you are so dense.”

Across the room, Xander and Giles sat on the couch picking at their respective pieces of cake. Xander had tried and failed to engage each person at the party in a conversation about the design elements of the wheelchair ramp and what the build had been like, but he found little purchase in trying to discuss it with anyone. Even Giles, who sometimes feigned interested in such things out of pity for Xander, could not bear to hear about the choice of wood for the base versus the rails.

“You know it’s going to be weird for, like, ever, right? The two of you being together?” Xander asked Giles.

“Yes, I suppose it will be,” Giles answered impassively.

“But hey, I get some of the credit for getting you two together, right? I mean, I kind of kicked your ass, figuratively speaking.”

Giles smiled and put his cake down on the coffee table. “Yes, Xander, you can take some credit for my reconciliation with Willow. In fact, I think I owe you a debt of gratitude for…’kicking my ass’ and helping me get sorted out.”

Xander bopped his head in a manner that indicated he was very pleased with himself.

“Oh, and Xander,” Giles added, calmly, “if you ever talk to me again the way you did at my house, I’ll put you in the ground.” Giles stood and brought his half-eaten cake to the kitchen.

Xander chuckled, then a look of worry clouded his face. “Wait, Giles, are you being serious? Giles?”

\-----------------

As the evening wound down and Willow began yawning more and more obviously, it became clear that it was time to shut down the little welcoming event. Giles sat next to Willow and said goodnight.

“You’ll come by tomorrow, right?” Willow asked.

“First thing in the morning,” he promised. He leaned in and kissed her lovingly.

In unison, Buffy, Xander, and Dawn all made various sounds of disgust.

“Oh, God, make it stop,” Xander pleaded, his eyes aimed at the ceiling.

Willow smiled, a hint of embarrassment on her face. “Fine, if you don’t want to see it, then don’t.” She waved her hand in the air, enveloping her and Giles in an opaque bubble. It had the effect of essentially drawing a curtain around the pair of lovers.

“Now,” she said, turning back to Giles, “where were we?”


End file.
